


For a Price

by goldenEY3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Other, demon pacts, pharamercy endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenEY3/pseuds/goldenEY3
Summary: Based on the Overwatch AU and excellent fanart byFaeri Sami. Check them out!Fareeha Amari has been a policewoman all her life, inspired by her mother, Ana.Now old and frail, her mother is passing before her eyes. Fareeha would do anything to save her ailing mother. She would even sell her soul to the great beyond.Armed with an arcane book and knowledge, she reaches out to the abyss to find a demon who could help her. But she gets a little more than she bargained for when she summons the being known as Mercy.





	1. Chapter 1

Machines beeped. Heart monitors, oxygen machines, and since it was in the morning, there was a dialysis machine running as well. Fareeha knew what each machine did, but it was only in a logical sense. She understood their functions, but she couldn’t emotionally comprehend them. They were simultaneously magic and science, Clarke’s Third Law made manifest.

Fareeha sat in her chair, next to the occupied bed.

“Mother? Are you alright?” She asked.

 “Hmmm…?”

The bed was in recline, and her mother had dozed off.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, no, Fareeha, I’m fine,” Ana said. Fareeha could hear the fatigue in her mother’s voice. “It’s just…this is very tiring.” She gestured to the various machines, specifically the dialysis machine. “It’s strange. I’m tired, but I’m restless too. Like this is sucking out my life but giving it back, too.”

Fareeha set her book aside, ready to leave.

“I could come back later…”

“No, no, it is fine,” Ana said.

Fareeha sat back down, moving the book back to her lap. It was a massive, ancient book, bound in what looked like aged leather and written in what looked like dried red/brown ink.

“Where was I? I was talking about your father, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you were.”

“Yes, about how young and foolish I was,” she sighed. “I had wanted to raise you as a family, maybe even in the land of our mothers. Maybe I should have listened to him, given you a better life.”

“Mom, I don’t mind that we moved from Egypt; I was happy in the States. And I loved what you did.”

“But my job…just being a single mother is tough. But being a police officer _and_ a mother? There were many times that I thought I made a mistake leaving your father.

“Mom, please, you were a great mother. And I didn’t mind your job.”

“Please, I know how often you got into scraps because of having a policewoman for a mother. And not just a policewoman, but the First Deputy Superintendent, the second-ranked policewoman in the city,” Ana laughed. “But if there was one thing you got from me, it was your sense of honor. You never squealed or tattled. ‘Mother, I fell down some stairs!’”

Fareeha tried not to laugh.

“No matter how many fights you were in, you never admitted to it,” Ana laughed. “Allah, the Amari women love their commitment to duty. Maybe I should’ve realized this was a sign, quit when I should have.”

Ana gestured to her eye patch.

“Mom, that wasn’t your fault,” Fareeha said. “Every police officer sacrifices in the line of duty.”

 “Holy Allah, Fareeha, you’re my daughter and I love you more than life itself, but don’t you dare say that,” her mother groaned.

“But it’s true.”

“Of course it’s true! Only a fool would say it isn’t!” Ana said. “But that doesn’t change how bleak it is. I should’ve died that day; but instead, I lost an eye. I woke up in the hospital, with you sleeping next to me, and I knew it was a blessing, that it was Allah’s way of saying that it isn’t my time.”

Ana shook her head.

“But I was wrong. It was a warning: if I continued on this path, it would cost me everything. It would cost me my daughter.”

“It hasn’t taken me, mother,” Fareeha said. She absentmindedly ran her thumb along the spine of the book. Something about it subconsciously reassured her. “I’ve been a policewoman for over ten years, and I’m fine.”

“No, no, no,” Ana said, shaking her head. She started to talk, but a cough cut her off. Fareeha was on her feet in a second, a hand reaching for a pitcher of water; Ana waved her off. “I meant that it would take me from you. How many nights did you go to bed without me to tuck you in? How many school projects did you do by yourself? How many recitals and performances did I miss? How much of your life was I not there…?”

“Mom, I know how much work meant to you, and what you had to do,” Fareeha said, sitting back down.

“Does that make what I had to do any different?” Her mother asked.

“I didn’t mind being alone. You know how much I like to read.”

“Ah, the great Amari Library,” her mother smiled. “That was what brought your father and I together, did you know that? We met at a bookstore. He was reading Milton, and I was looking for Dante.”

“Wait, you met over Dante and Milton?” Fareeha asked. “Two Christian writers? The most _prolific_ Christian writers in history?”

“You see the irony of it too, eh?” Ana laughed. “Him, a proud First Nations man, and me, a faithful Muslim woman, bonding over Christianity?”

“Oh, dammit mom, it can’t be that cliché.”

“I’m afraid it is,” she smiled. “We’d find bookstores. Real bookstores, none of those massive damned corporate chains; we’d find the real bookstores, the tiny, two people bookstores, and we’d just buy books. Damn, we’d just skim them all. I don’t think either of us truly finished any book, we’d just read and read and read, and when we’d get bored, we’d find new ones. And all the books we didn’t finish went into the great Amari Library.”

Ana laughed.

“How many books do we have again?”

“I think a better question is what part of our house wasn’t covered with books,” Fareeha laughed.

“Ah, that’s right,” Ana smiled. “He’d say that those would be his gift to me, so that I would never be bored; always with a book, always reading. But when I found out I was pregnant, he said that those books would be for you, that they were your birthright.” She shook her head. “It was like he knew he wouldn’t be around to see you grow, that we would go our separate ways. But he knew you’d love reading, and that you’d find something of value in those books we blindly bought.”

Hearing that, Fareeha took a very conscious second to rub her hand across the book she brought. It was written in an ancient language, one she had to spend a great amount of time researching it to even begin to understand. She had found it when she was a teen, buried in the depths of the multitude of book shelves that surrounded her house.

It was a gift, a gift that would help her save her mother’s life.

“A love of books; that’s when I knew you were my daughter,” Ana smiled. “For the longest time, I thought that was proof that you were your father’s daughter, too. Then you hit puberty.”

“Mom…”

“Oh, the girls you chased,” she laughed. “That’s when I knew that you were your father’s daughter; you inherited his love of women.”

“Mom!”

“Please, you know it’s true,” Ana smiled. “I remember your first girlfriend. Do you?”

“Mom, I was twelve!”

“And neither of you knew what it meant to be girlfriend-girlfriend,” she laughed. “Oh, I wish I could’ve been there more! Both of you were positively stumbling over each other!”

Fareeha felt her face burn.

“I was so happy you were born a girl, and even happier when you started growing up. I never had to worry about you getting one of your girlfriends pregnant.”

“Mother!!”

“You got an early start, didn’t you?” Ana laughed.

“How--! Mother, we’re not having this conversation!”

“You know how thin the walls were, Fareeha. Don’t worry, I started sleeping with ear plugs after that.”

Burning with embarrassment, Fareeha sat back in her chair.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Fareeha,” Ana smiled. “It’s a parent’s job to embarrass their children.”

“Any _other_ secrets I should know about?” Fareeha asked.

“Well, since you asked, I knew whenever you’d sneak out,” Ana replied. “Your room might’ve been on the second floor, but the railing you climbed down led right into my room. It’d shake, rattle and roll whenever you’d sneak out or climb back.”

“You--!”

“But I was glad of that, too. It meant I knew when me and my date had to be quiet.”

“What?!”

“Fareeha, I was a single mother; I wasn’t dead,” Ana said. “You remember Mazen, or Waleed? They lasted the longest.”

“You…what…You can’t be…”

Ana fixed her daughter with a powerful one-eyed stare.

“You really expected me to stay a single mother _forever?_ ”

“But, but you were…”

Ana’s expression softens at first, then crumbled.

“Yes, yes I was,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have ever left your father. I should’ve stayed with him, come whatever may. I should’ve given you a better life.”

“But mom, you did,” Fareeha said. “I love my life. I love what you’ve done for me. And I love you. Allah, I love you so much it hurts to see you like this.”

Ana smiled sadly.

“But it’s natural,” she said. “That is the damn shame of things, Fareeha. Oh Allah, I wish it wasn’t so, but children bury their parents. It’s the natural order of things.”

“Mom, you aren’t dying.”

“Have you seen what it takes to keep me alive?” Ana laughed. “How many machines am I hooked up to, Fareeha? There is the dialysis machine, the oxygen machine, soon I think I’ll be on some pacemaker machine, it goes on, Fareeha. But I’m getting tired of it all.’

“Don’t say that!” Fareeha said. She dug her nails into her knees as she yelled. “Don’t say that!!”

The room was quiet. The seconds stretched out, filled only with the rhythmic beat of the beeps of the machines.

“I’m sorry, Fareeha,” Ana mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Allah, I’ve gotten so glib. I’ve made my peace with this. Please know that; I’m fine with what’s coming. But I’ve forgotten about you. Allah, I’ve forgotten how you feel about this, just like how I’ve forgotten about your feelings when I was raising you.”

Ana realized she was crying. She reached for a tissue to dry her eye and blow her nose.

“I’m so sorry for this, Fareeha. Please, can you forgive an old woman?”

“Mom, you know I can’t blame you for anything.”

Fareeha went back to running her finger across the ancient book.

“Thank you, Fareeha.”

The dialysis machine beeped, telling the world it was done.

“Well, it looks like the nurse will be here soon to unhook me from this,” Ana said, putting on a brave face. “This damned thing takes too much from me. I’ll have to take a nap.”

“No need to apologize,” Fareeha said, getting up. “I’ve been here most of the morning anyways. I can’t stay here and keep you up.”

“Thank you.”

“Mom, please, you don’t need to apologize.”

Ana nodded.

“Besides, soon you’ll be up and out of here,” Fareeha smiled.

“Fareeha, please, you have to—“

“Trust me,” Fareeha said, patting the book. “I’ve a good feeling about this.”

 

* * *

 

She had read the book dozens of times over.

It was written in ancient Sumerian, a long-dead language. But the great Amari Library had a plethora of books, many detailing ancient histories and languages, especially of the First Nations and Middle East civilizations. Being raised among books since was born, Fareeha was intimately familiar with research.

Months of research had gone into this, the fruits of her labors.

She was sure of every single step, of every precaution.

An abandoned, outdated Omnic factory was the perfect spot for the summoning circle, lying on a junction of lay lines. She had burned specific pieces of wood to make charcoal shards, the closest approximation of ancient charcoal she could find, and used their ashes to make the very specific geometric circle and hexes required to reach into the beyond.

She had bought a heifer from a halal market. She had bought it alive, and had only recently taken a machete to it to slaughter it. The blood of the heifer was pooling in the middle of the circle, but she had taken a brush and used it to trace over the lines of the summoning circle.

Coarse sea salt rocks were crush, ground into rough powders by mortar and pestle, made a circle around the summoning glyphs, with pure silver bars placed at the correct lay lines to help guard her from the evil she would be summoning.

Finally, she held a dagger made of pure silver in her hands, and wore a silver ring she had commissioned to resemble the Seal of Solomon, also made of pure silver. It might be overkill, but when dealing with the infernal, it paid to be safe; she had seen too many horror movies where the protagonist didn’t go far enough to protect themselves.

Opening the book made of strange leather, inked with dark red/brown ink, written in a long-dead language, Fareeha braced herself.

She’d pay any price to save her mother. And now was the time to make the payment.

Fareeha found the correct page, and began chanting the canticles.

 _“Pit fiends, hear my call,”_ she read in the dead language. _“Hear my, and bend to my will. I summon you to do my bidding. I summon you to cure plagues, to cure the flesh, to cure life itself. Hear me, and obey.”_

For the briefest of seconds, nothing happened.

Then reality blurred. The black charcoal lines of the circles seemed to darken, to go from black, to pitch black, to an absolute black that devoured all light. The blood of the heifer seemed to shine, and pull upwards, as if it drifted towards the ceiling.

Fareeha blinked, unable to process what was happening. Her eyes weren’t deceiving her, but rather her mind could simply not process the destruction of Euclidian geometry that was occurring in front of her. Lines turned to circles turned to polyhedrons, all while staying absolutely straight. The floor melted while staying whole. And something came from nothing.

Eventually, the fell power that she summoned abated. Lines remembered how they should function, the floor returned to its level surface, and reality once again reigned supreme. But the heifer was gone; in its place was a person.

Fareeha dry-swallowed. The book was right: she had reached out and summoned a daemon. That meant only one thing.

 _Daemons are supposed to assume forms that are most physically appealing,_ she thought. _The book said they would lie, cheat, and steal, all to further their ends. No matter what happens, I have to ignore whatever it may look like; I_ have _to be on my guard at all times._

“I have summoned you,” Fareeha said. “Arise, and face your master.”

The person stood, quickly revealing that it was, in fact, a woman.

The woman had light purple hair, and black horns growing from her head. Sharp, pointed purple wings sprung from her back, and a smooth, black tail swung behind her. Her blouse and pants were white with black accents and purple lining and stitching. And she..

_Oh, fuck…_

And she was hot as hell.

“I have heard your call, and heed your answer,” the woman said with a smile. “My name is Mercy. What is your bidding, my master?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Uh…”

Fareeha knew what to say. She had planned an entire dialog of things to say, given the daemon’s response and how it entered the world.

Powerful daemons, the book had said, would cause things to happen. If the daemon was powerful enough, it would turn the very air freezing cold, and since it was the summer, she would have noticed even the slightest drop in temperature. But if the daemon was truly powerful, perhaps a fallen Archangel, time itself would stand still. Fareeha looked at her watch; it faithfully counted every single second.

That meant the daemon wasn’t too powerful, which was good. If it was powerful, she would release it from its bonds; there were too many movies and books where the one who summoned a daemon failed to realize that it was too powerful for it to control. Faust immediately came to mind.

If it was too hateful, she would release it as well; nothing good would ever come from a daemon that wanted you dead.

But if it was a woman daemon, and she was hot…? She never expected that.

“Uh…”

The daemon smiled and laughed, her voice as gentle and pure as tinkling china.

“What’s the matter, oh bearer mine?” She asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Uh, I…”

The daemon was looking at her, with deep, royal purple eyes. It wasn’t a piercing gaze, but rather a gentle one, one that invited Fareeha to stare deeper and deeper into her beautiful eyes.

 _No, I can’t do that,_ she thought. _Look somewhere else, damn you!_

Fareeha pulled her eyes from the daemon’s, but was drown to her face, namely her full, plump lips. Her skin was a light vanilla crème color, utterly flawless. It led her eyes down to her breasts, which were perfectly accented by her blouse. They looked beautiful and supple; even though the daemon’s blouse didn’t have a neckline to plunge down to her breasts, that only made it more alluring.

_No! Stay focused!_

Her eyes traveled further down, gazing at the daemon’s waist, where her wide hips spread into her beautiful…round ass…

_Stop! It! Stop thinking about her as a girlfriend! You’re here to sell your soul!_

“I…daemon…”

“Yes, master?” the daemon Mercy said.

Being called ‘master’ only made Fareeha hotter. She was finally able to break eye contact, and looked at the notes she had written.

“Y-you are called here, because I want to make a pact!”

“Hmmm, a pact you say?” Mercy chuckled. She leaned forward; there was nothing but thin air, but for some reason, it was like there was an invisible table for her to lean on. And the way she leaned on it, it drew Fareeha’s eyes to hers once more.

“Yes!”

“You certainly seem more prepared than one would expect,” Mercy said. “Fortunately for you, I don’t need to have a pact. Only daemons use pacts. As an angel, I’m yours to command.”

That was too good to be true.

“I—I called you here to cure my mother,” Fareeha said. “I need you to save her life. She’s dying.”

The daemon paused, and it wasn’t a slight pause either. Her eyes widened in shock, but that quickly morphed into…into regret? Sadness? Fareeha had only summoned her for a minute, but the light that danced in her eyes vanished, replaced with a flatness of some kind.

“Will you make a pact with me?” Fareeha said.

“No,” Mercy said quietly. “I don’t require a pact. But you are my master, and I am required to obey.”

“Good. Then save my mother!”

“I…”

Mercy paused, then the twinkle in her eyes came back. Setting an elbow on the invisible table, she drummed her fingers against her cheek.

“Very well,” she said with a smile. “Have you the necessary items, oh bearer mine?”

“Items? What do you mean, ‘items?’”

“The items that I need to complete your wish,” Mercy said. “Have you got them?”

“What are you talking about?” Fareeha sputtered. She flipped through her book, heavy with sticky note annotations. “The summoning book never mentions anything about items!”

“That is because each wish is different,” Mercy said. “I need to know your commitment.”

“My mother is dying!”

“And power is needed to reverse it. I need to know if your soul is powerful enough for the task at hand.”

Fareeha glared at the daemon.

“That is the way things are,” Mercy smiled.

The damned thing was playing with her.

“Know your place, daemon,” Fareeha said. “I am your master. I have—“

“I’m no daemon.”

“What?”

“You called me a daemon,” Mercy said. “I’m not a daemon.”

“You’re a fallen angel!”

“I’m not a fallen angel, either,” Mercy said. “Although I _was_ cast out of Heaven.”

“Then you’re a daemon!”

“Being ‘fallen’ and ‘cast out’ are two very different things, master. ‘Fallen’ means you had been damned by the Almighty. But ‘cast out’ just means you can never return to Heaven. I’d know, I’m the only angel to be cast out without being fallen.”

“Don’t you lie to me! I am your master!”

“Lie? I’d never lie!” Mercy laughed. “I’m the only entity short of an angel that still lives in Heaven that would _only_ tell you the truth.”

Tell the truth? She could use this. According to her book, every divine being, angelic or infernal, had a True Name. Every being protected their True Name by telling a moniker, or an alias, for knowing a divine being’s True Name gave the wielder absolute dominion over them.

If this ‘Mercy’ would indeed tell the truth, then Fareeha would get her True Name, and absolute control over her. But ‘Mercy’ would most likely lie, and it would serve as a reminder that she wasn’t summoning Mercy to be ogled at, or flirted with; she was a dangerous force.

“You’d tell me the truth?” Fareeha said. “Alright then, what is your True Name?”

“I’ve told you my True Name.”

“Not the name you gave me, not ‘Mercy!’” Fareeha said. “Your True Name.”

“It is ‘Mercy,’” Mercy said. “That is my True Name.”

Fareeha ground her teeth; she should’ve know the damned thing would lie.

“I knew it,” she said. “Another lie from a daemon.”

“Please, master, I’m an angel.”

“Only angels live in heaven, and I didn’t summon you from there!”

“True,” Mercy said. “I guess I’m more of a dirty angel than anything else. Cast out from Heaven, but certainly not in Hell.”

“You still sound like a daemon to me.”

“The difference between angels and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time,” Mercy smiled, “oh bearer mine.”

Fareeha could feel herself blush as Mercy smiled at her. Her heart fluttered, seeing such beauty…

_No! Stop thinking of her that way! She’s a daemon, and you’re trying to sell your soul to her!_

“You said that you need items,” she stammered. “What do you need to save my mother?”

“Four items,” Mercy said, holding up slender, demure fingers. “Tears of the sinless, blood of the sinner, bones of an infant, and the living death.”

“None of that makes sense,” Fareeha spat. “Tell me what they are.”

“They are tears, blood, bones, and life that is death,” Mercy said. “Give me those items, and I could fulfill your wish.”

Fishing a fresh sticky note from her bag, Fareeha scribbled down the list.

“Fine,” she spat. “I’ll get your items, and then I will summon you again to pay you.”

“Summon me again? You mean to release me?”

“I _will_ release you.”

“You can’t do that,” Mercy said. “When you summon a being, you aren’t summoning a specific being, but rather yelling into the void for help. Anyone may answer it.”

“What, do you just expect me to keep a daemon in my apartment?”

“Angel, master.”

Fareeha glared at Mercy, who only smiled back.

 _Damn this bitch,_ she thought. 

“If I summon another daemon,” she said tightly, “I might need to have different items?”

“You might.”

 _I don’t need this shit,_ she thought. Fareeha held the signet ring up, the one she commissioned to bear the Seal of Solomon.

“I command you, daemon, honor my pact! Tell me the truth about these items you need!”

“I _am_ telling you the truth, master,” Mercy said. “I told you, you’d find no one else more honest than I. Short of Heaven, that is. And please, I am an angel.”

“If only I didn’t need you,” Fareeha spat. “Fine. Come with me.”

“I’d love to, but there’s a problem, master.”

Mercy leaned forward even more on her invisible table. She stretched out, and Fareeha had to look over her shoulder to keep her eyes to herself. Mercy reached forward, and tapped on an invisible wall; it echoed in the abandoned factory. It was the barrier of salt that Fareeha had set around her summoning circle.

Hissing with annoyance, Fareeha walked to the circle.

“As your master, I command you to cause me no harm,” she said. “And you will not run from my control.”

“Understood, my master,” Mercy laughed.

Fareeha gathered up the silver bars she set on the circle, then swept up the salt. Free of her confines, Mercy stood up from her strange, invisible table, and walked free.

“Ah, much better,” Mercy said, taking a moment to stretch. “The air in there was getting _so_ stale.”

“Just…just follow me,” Fareeha said. “My car is outside.”

What was her life coming to? She just wanted to save her mother, not live with some daemon.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha was worried that someone would see Mercy as she led her from her car to her apartment. But it was rush hour, and everyone was more worried about getting home than seeing a strange woman with purple hair and wings.

“Hurry up and get inside,” she said, pushing Mercy through the door of her building.

“Don’t you worry, master. You humans only see what you want to see,” she laughed. “They don’t want to see an angel, they want to see their wife or children.”

“Just…get up the stairs. I’m on the third floor.”

Fareeha pulled out her keys and opened the door to her apartment, leading Mercy into the little foyer. She was glad she made detective; if she was still on her officer paygrade, she’d never be able to afford the place.

Her apartment was a new building, made only five years ago. It had high ceilings; not quite vaulted, but higher than the standard eight feet. It had a master bed, a guest room, a living room and a kitchen. The bathroom was massive, with both a shower and a big tub. And being a bibliophile like her mother, she had almost a dozen bookshelves lining her apartment. 

“My master has an exquisite dwelling,” Mercy smiled. “And so many books as well! I’m lucky.”

“You’re lucky there’s a guest room,” Fareeha growled. “You’re staying in there.”

A pattering of feet made her remember the reason she didn’t want to bring Mercy to her apartment. From the kitchen, Momo came trotting into the room.

“Momo! Get back!”

“And she had a dog!” Mercy gushed.

“She’s dangerous, Momo, you can sense that, can you? Back, boy!”

“What breed is he?” Mercy asked, all smiles. She knelt down, but Momo paused at the threshold of the living room. “Is he a German Shepard?”

“Momo, she’s dangerous,” Fareeha said. “I’ll get you a treat, just back away from her.”

Momo tilted his head, looking at the strange woman. Surely, he could see that Mercy was bad news; what would a daemon even smell like to a dog? Would he only smell fire and brimstone? Mercy hadn’t seemed to smell like fire and damnation to Fareeha.

Fareeha stared as Momo trotted over to Mercy, sniffed her, and started licking her face.

“Aw, you’re a friendly boy, aren’t you?” Mercy laughed, petting Momo. “Yes, you’re a good boy.”

“Are all daemons good with dogs, or did I miss something?”

“Oh no, not daemons,” Mercy said, scratching Momo behind his ears. “Animals are scared by daemons. They can smell the evil on them.”

“Then how is Momo not freaked out by you?”

“Because, oh bearer mine, I am not a daemon.”

Fareeha snorted. Mercy must’ve done something to trick Momo; she’d never be able to let her guard down.

“Stay here,” she said. She set her bags down, and pulled out the jars of rough sea salt. Walking to the guest room, she closed the windows and spread a thick line of salt just under the window. She paused, then decided to bow to her paranoia; she lined the entire room with salt, only leaving an opening by the door.

“There’s your room,” she said, walking back to the foyer. “Get in.”

Mercy gave Momo one last pat before walking down the hallway.

“Oh, a bed. My master is kind.”

“Get in there, I need time to think,” Fareeha said.

“Can’t you open the window? It’ll get awfully stuffy in here. This place is so hot.”

“Hot?” Fareeha laughed. “You’re a daemon! You should be used to heat!”

“Please, master, I’m not a daemon,” Mercy huffed. “And even daemons don’t like heat all the time.”

Fareeha stepped towards the window, but caught herself. If she opened the window, a breeze could disturb the salt. And if the salt barrier broke, Mercy would be free.

“Nice try,” she smiled, “but I won’t take that chance.”

“Ah well, guess I better get used to stuffy air,” Mercy sighed. She walked in, and did that strange magic-thing where she perched on thin air. But instead of leaning on a table, she seemed to flop on some floating, invisible bed, her head held in her demure hands. She lay draped across the invisible bed looking out the window, as if she was a pin-up posing for a centerfold. “At least this is a room with a view. Looks like there’s a park down the street, oh, and there’s a café, too…”

Mercy kept talking, but Fareeha found it hard to listen. Mercy was posing for her, she knew it. And it was hard to ignore her; Fareeha’s eyes were drawn up her shapely legs to her wonderful, full, perfect heart-shaped derriere…

“…does master enjoy the view, too?” Mercy asked mischievously, wiggling her butt.

Fareeha startled, standing ram-rod straight. Mercy was teasing her, watching her as she tried not to blush, but failed.

“Uh, I…uh, as y-your master, I—“

“Oh, don’t worry, oh bearer mine, I don’t mind you looking,” Mercy laughed. Her black tail curled up, then smacked her ass with a sharp crack.

“Just stay there!” Fareeha quickly closed the door to the room, and placed three silver bars at the door; it should be enough to lock Mercy in until she found a better, more permanent solution to keeping a gorram strip-tease of a daemon in her guest room. She would also have to hid the book from her, least Mercy try to summon some friends to make an evil, lesbian harem for her.

“I’m too gay for this…”

 

* * *

 

The alarm rang, and Fareeha swatted it off. She might have Thursdays and Fridays off, but now it was back to her regular work schedule, and work on the weekend, to boot. She got out of bed and reached for her exercise cloths, a matching pair of sports -bra and -boyshorts. She was just doing some simple exercises, it wasn’t her morning to run.

She walked to the living room, and set up a pull-up bar to start her morning. Pull-ups, curl-ups, push-ups, leg lifts, bridges and squats, both to wake her up and keep her fit.

“Looks like I have plenty of _other_ views, too.”

Fareeha nearly jumped out of her skin. Mercy was floating just in front of her, lying on thin air because of her unholy charm, a wide grin on her face. She wore a sleeveless t-shirt that was a size too big, and large basketball shorts. Momo sat by her, and she was idly petting him

“Y-you!”

“Yes, me,” Mercy laughed. “Have you forgotten about me so soon, oh bearer mine?”

“No! Just…you were locked in the room, silver and salt! How did you get out?”

“Momo here likes playing fetch,” Mercy said, petting her dog. “A few bars moved, and I could leave.”

“Momo, you traitor…” Fareeha growled. Momo whined, and trotted over to her, trying to win her back with kisses. “Alright, I’ll forgive you this time. But you can’t let her out of your sight! She’s dangerous.”

“My master wounds me,” Mercy said. “I told you that I’m not a daemon.”

“That’s something a daemon would say.”

Mercy stopped, as if she’d never considered such a thing before.

“I guess you’re right,” she said. “No wonder you’re not warming up to me.”

“’Warming up?’ I’m your master! I summoned you here, you should be all for buying my soul.”

“But, there’s the little matter of the items,” Mercy said, wagging a finger.

“I know what you said. And what are you wearing?!”

“Oh, you mean this?” Mercy spun upright in the air, pulling at the t-shirt. “I found it in the dresser you have in the room. Are these your clothes?”

“Yes, they’re my cloths! They’re exercise cloths!”

“I’m sorry, master, but my outfit was just too hot for the room. This? This is _much_ better.”

Mercy stretched her back, showing off a scandalous amount of side-boob. Fareeha felt herself flush and did her best to ignore her.

“Allah, isn’t there some underwear you could wear?”

“None that are my size. I think you’re a bit chestier than me, oh bearer mine.”

Momo gently barked, drawing Fareeha’s attention back to him.

“I know, I know boy, you’re hungry,” she said, petting the big dog. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Can I ask for something, too?”

“What? Do daemons eat?”

 “Daemons, angels, and us of whom are in-between,” Mercy said. “We don’t have to eat like humans have to, but we like it. Human food is so very tasty.”

“I should start charging you room and board,” Fareeha growled. “Come on, Momo, let’s get you some food and take you for a walk. And you! Back into the room!”

“But it’s so stuffy in there,” Mercy protested.

Fareeha got up and grabbed Mercy’s wrist, dragging her back to the guest room; Mercy floated in the air, gliding as Fareeha pulled her. Mercy’s wrist was so dainty, her skin so smooth…

_Stop it! You’re holding a daemon!_

Fareeha opened the room and marched Mercy in. Just as the daemon said, the air was hot and horribly stale. She forgot that the guest room faced the east, and was quick to heat up from the morning sun.

“I forgot how hot this room gets,” she mumbled.

“Please, master, can we open the window?”

_And let a breeze mess up the salt barrier? I don’t think so._

“…I’ll turn the air conditioning on for you.”

“Oh, master, thank you,” Mercy said, wrapping Fareeha in a tight hug.

“J-just know that I’m doing this to keep you around,” she stammered. “Just until I get those items you said you needed.”

“No need to act tough, oh bearer mine,” Mercy said. “I know why you summoned me. You need mercy.”

“Good,” Fareeha said. “Now I need to walk Momo. Let go of me.”

“You don’t mean it,” Mercy said.

She’d need to take an extra-long shower to take her mind off of this.

 

* * *

 

Wearing slacks and simple dress shirt, Fareeha walked into the precinct. Another day, another pile of paperwork that was undoubtably waiting for her.

“Morning, darlin’,” Jesse said from his desk. Like always, Jesse McCree was dressed like some urban cowboy. Cowboy hat, boots, belt buckle, a permanent five o’clock shadow and hat were what set him apart from the other detectives, to say nothing of his old-style gun holster. Other than that, he was dressed just like her; dress slacks, dress shirt, and his badge pinned to his belt.

“Morning, desk mate,” she said, walking in.

“New ring?” Jesse said, pointing to her right hand. She had made sure to wear her Ring of Solomon replica when she got dressed. “Or did you finally find some nice woman to tame you?”

“Get real. I just found this on a street vendor,” she said. “Thought I’d give it a go.”

She sat down at her desk. Sure enough, there was a pile of folders that was waiting for her. The top one looked _very_ familiar. “The Erickson case? Are you kidding me? We closed this last week.”

“Yea, I know,” Jesse said, thumbing through his own stacks of papers.

“Why the hell was this kicked back to us?”

“Have you not been alive for the past year? The Omnic Civil Rights movement is in full swing, darlin’. You know how much that’s messing everything up. Paperwork is all over the place, filing is shot…”

“Yea, yea, I know about the Omnic Civil Rights,” Fareeha sighed as she turned on her computer. “But we _both_ went over the case. A couple in the wrong place at the wrong time and get jumped by a serial robber.  Everything was good, in proper order. Why would they kick it back down?”

“You ask me, I think the higher ups are doing that to try and make time for the protests,” Jesse sighed. “You heard the old speech. ‘There’s a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious, makes you so sick at heart, that you can’t take part!’”

“’…And you’ve got to put the bodies upon the gears,’” Fareeha said, “’upon the levers, upon all the apparatus, and you’ve got to make it stop!’ We’ve all heard it, the Chief has the quote framed by his office.”

“Well, that’s what the Omnics are doing,” Jesse said, gesturing to the precinct around them. Every desk was full, every detective and officer practically swimming in paperwork. “They’re gumming up the works, showing us that they just won’t take it anymore. Not until they’re free, not until they’re equal.”

“At least this is happening all over the world,” Fareeha said. “Makes me feel a little bit better that we’re not the only police that are suffering from this.”

“Misery sure loves company, don’t it?” Jesse laughed.

“Too right. At least the religious nut jobs are cooling off. When’s the last time they pulled a stunt?”

“For the love of all that is holy, Fareeha, don’t go tempting fate,” Jesse snapped. “I’ll love you forever if you don’t do that, and you know how gay I am.”

“Almost as gay as me,” she laughed. “Oh, ‘religious nuts.’ Actually, that reminds me of a joke.”

“Will I go to Hell for laughing at this?”

“Maybe.

“One day, Jesus Christ and his apostles are walking around the Holy Land, and they come across a town. They walk in, and see a mob pushing a woman about, tearing apart her clothes before tying her to a wooden pole in the middle of the town.

“Jesus says, ‘my good people, what are you doing to this woman?’

“’She’s an adulteress!’ They shout. ‘She’s unclean! We’re going to stone her!’

“’Very well,’ Jesus says. ‘That is your right. But I tell you this: let he who is sinless cast the first stone.’

“The mob stops. Every person realizes that, no matter how virtuous they are, they’re all sinners. They don’t have the moral right to judge her.

“But this one old lady at the front of the mob looks at Jesus. Then she picks up a big stone, and heaves it at the woman. The stone hits her, caves her skull in, killing her instantly.

“Jesus looks at the woman and says, ‘dammit Mom, I’m trying to prove a point here!’”

“Oh, that Virgin Mary, always causing trouble,” Jesse laughed. “Giving birth to the Savior of Man with an Immaculate Conception gotta give you carte blanche to do whatever you want, don’t it?”

“Actually, the Immaculate Conception was the birth of Mary, _not_ Jesus,” Fareeha said. “It means that Mary was born without Original Sin so she could be the mother of God.”

“You have to be the first lesbian who could quote Christian dogma at the drop of a hat.”

“What, you’ve never seen a nun before?”

“Okay, now _that’s_ what I’m going to Hell for!” Jesse howled, slapping his knee.

Fareeha’s mind wandered as she read through her emails. She had to find four things to save her mother: tears of the sinless, blood of the sinner, bones of an infant, and the ‘living death,’ whatever that was.

Maybe she should just start with the easiest one: tears of the sinless. There were several hospitals that had maternity wards. Sneaking into one might raise a few questions, but all she needed was a few tears from babies, and they were always crying. Once she got in, she’d…

Fareeha stopped in her tracks.

“Original Sin,” she muttered.

“Sorry?” Jesse asked.

“N-nothing.”

Original _fucking_ Sin. The very thing the joke was about. The one thing that _all_ humans were guilty of. Adam and Eve ate the Apple of Knowledge: the first sin. Even babies carried the weight of the sin, and depending on which theology you followed, even adhering to strict religious dogma didn’t completely wash the stain away.

She couldn’t find tears of the sinless, because there _were_ no sinless. Every human was guilty of at least one thing.

Damn that bitch Mercy. She’d given her an impossible task. And her mother would die because of it.

Biting back tears, Fareeha tried to get to work.


	3. Chapter 3

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough. Between the stress of work and finding out about the impossible task, she needed a break.

Fareeha left the station and drove to her favorite café. It was a short walk from her apartment; maybe she’d check on Mercy when she was done, just to make sure the daemon wasn’t causing any trouble.

Maybe Mercy was making herself at home. Maybe she was trying on more of her clothes. Maybe she was even wearing nothing at—

Fareeha violently shook her head, trying to get rid of the mental image of Mercy naked.

“Allah, you’ve got to stop,” she mumbled. “Flirting with a daemon. Just go to a gay bar and chat up another one-night stand, you’ve done this before.”

She made it to the café, and there was still an empty table outside. Which was nice, because there was a wonderful breeze that she wanted to take advantage of. Fareeha got the table and skimmed over the menu.

“See anything you like?” A waitress said, walking up to her.

“Oh, there are a few things,” Fareeha said, stealthily eying the waitress up. She was a black-haired beauty, a little on the young side, but made up for it with a wonderful chest. She’d have to get her number.

Yes, getting laid would help her get Mercy off her mind.

“I’ll take the quiche special, with a side of baba ganoush.”

“Ooh, can I get something too?”

This time, Fareeha _did_ jump. Mercy was outside, outside! And wearing her damned white-black-and-purple outfit, with her wings, tail, and horns for all to see. Was that Momo with her?

“Mercy! What are you doing?!”

“I’m taking Momo for a walk,” she said, holding up the leash in her hand. “The poor boy needed to stretch.”

Momo barked happily, then jumped on Fareeha to kiss her.

“Something for your friend?” The waitress laughed.

“Some quiche sounds lovely,” Mercy said with a smile, sitting down opposite Fareeha.

“Two quiches with baba ganoush. Something to drink other than water?”

_The way things are going, some fucking beer,_ Fareeha thought.

“I’m on duty, I’m fine with water, she said instead.

“Right away! And I’ll get a little treat for your adorable dog,” the waitress said, giving Momo a quick ear scratch.

Fareeha waited until the waitress was out of earshot before pulling Mercy across the table.

“I sealed you in that room!” She hissed. “How did you get out? Did you get Momo to move those damned silver bars again?”

“Actually, Momo was the one who opened the door. I didn’t make him,” Mercy said. “I’m honest, master. I was just fine reading books, but he was a little lonely. And he likes getting petted.”

Momo barked happily, the attention whore.

“And what about my order to stay put?” She snarled. “I told you last night to not leave!”

“But Momo wanted to walk. My name is Mercy; it’s not just my name, it’s what I do, my ordained Task from Yahweh. He wanted to walk, and it would be a mercy for him to get out and stretch. I only did what I was made to do.”

“And what, pray tell, were you made to do?”

“Give mercy. It _is_ my name, after all.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you put on any real clothes?”

“You seemed upset that I took some of your cloths this morning,” Mercy said. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’re not even covering up your horns and wings! People will see you! Allah, the mess I’d get into if people found out that I was keeping a damn daemon in my guest room…”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, oh bearer mine,” Mercy laughed, booping Fareeha on the nose. “People only see what they want to see.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Oh, my, God,” someone gasped.

Fareeha spun around. It was a group of people who were walking by, maybe college students. They were staring at Mercy. They saw her, they were staring at her, they’d run and scream and shout and take pictures to upload, of her, Fareeha Amari, with a real damned daemon!

“That’s the best cosplay I’ve seen today!”

“What?”

“Are you a daemon?” The men and women descended on Mercy, gasping and admiring her outfit.

“Please, I’m just an angel,” Mercy laughed.

“How did you get the wings just right? Or your tail? They look so real!”

Cameras and phones were pulled out, and Mercy struck a few poses for the men and women.

“What kind of daemon are you?” A woman asked.

“I’m not a daemon,” Mercy said, “but if you want, you _can_ sign a contract.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Fareeha said. “Please, we’re eating here.”

“Sorry, but your friend is so good at cosplay,” the woman said. “Do you have a card? A website? Where can I follow you?”

“I’m new here, I’m afraid,” Mercy said. “You’ll have to find me again.”

“We will!” The group said. Everyone gave Momo a pat as they left.

Fareeha stared at the group, then at Mercy.

“How the hell do you know what cosplay is?!” She demanded.

“Because there’s a con on this weekend.”

“Then how the hell do you know what a con is?”

“Here you go, two quiches and baba ganoush,” the waitress said, bringing them their food.

“Thank you,” Mercy smiled.

“And a little treat for our four-legged friend.” She set a plate of dog treats for Momo, who barked happily.

“How the fuck do you know about cons?” Fareeha repeated as the waitress left.

“Because there’s always a few people who try to be edgy and summon something,” Mercy said as she ate. “Mmm. Delicious.”

“You mean there are actual people who summon daemons? At cons?”

“Well, they _try_ to,” she said. “People who want to rebel, or disappoint mommy and daddy…oh, you humans have a word for them. They like nihilism, dark clothes and ironically religious inverted crosses.”

“Goths? Edgelords?”

“Yes, them!” Mercy said. “Most of them don’t mean any harm, just trying out a phase. But every so often, some of them who are really into it try to summon something, or host a séance, maybe fumble their way through a black mass or two.

“Nothing comes of it. They’re not doing _anything_ the right way, unlike you, oh bearer mine, who was able to summon me. But it is fun to scare them!”

“Wait, so real hardcore goths and edgelords try to summon you, and you just scare them?”

“You should see the looks on their faces!” Mercy laughed. “So sullen, so melancholic, then when you poke your head through a hole in reality, and _boo!_ They jump ten feet in the air!”

It was hard not to laugh with Mercy. Fareeha couldn’t lie, it was fun to scare people. And she could see it in her head, a bunch of teens screaming and running for their lives as Mercy jumped out of nowhere to scream at them.

Part of her didn’t want to laugh with Mercy, but she was having a hard time remembering why she was angry at the daemon. Just being around Mercy made her heart flutter, and it wasn’t because of all the gratuitous teasing for once. Something just set her at ease.

“Now, I haven’t been on this mortal plane in a while,” Mercy said, “but it looks very busy. What have I missed here?”

“Everything,” Fareeha said, digging into her quiche. “The great Omnic Civil Rights is in full swing, not only here, but the world over.”

“Omnics, those are those robot-people? I’ve seen lots of them around.”

“I’d be careful with the R-word,” Fareeha said. “It’s becoming a slur. They came into sentience a few decades ago, and the world is scared of them. Lots of people think they’ll go mad, try to overthrow the human race, make us go the way of the Dodo. But they just want to be treated the same as everyone. Things have gotten quiet, but it wasn’t too long ago that there were mass protests and violent counter-protests.

“The Omnics took a page from Ghandi and Martin Luther King Jr, and are protesting via mass arrests. Peacefully, yes, but it’s wearing on us cops.”

“Why not do something about it?”

“We are,” Fareeha said. “There are actually a lot of police officers who are on the Omnic’s side. But political policy is a tough thing to change. We protest in our own way, but at the end of the day, we can either follow orders or find a new job. And for all the warts this has, I love my job.”

“You sure do,” Mercy said. “Just mentioning ‘police’ made you sit up. This is something you’re passionate about.”

“One of the things I’m passionate about,” Fareeha smiled.

“And the others?”

_One is sitting in front of me._

But Fareeha bit her tongue at the last second.

_She’s a daemon,_ she thought. _I have to be careful._

“Well, my mother,” she said instead.

And then she remembered why she was angry at Mercy.

She could feel her expression change. Mercy could see the change as well. Even Momo could sense the anger growing in her, and was whining, trying to get her to stop before she started.

“You’re sending me on a fucking goose chase,” Fareeha said.

“You mean the items I need?”

“Of course it’s the fucking items!” Fareeha said. “You want the tears of the sinless, but there can’t be anyone born without sin. You should know, wouldn’t you, daemon?”

“Master, please, I’m not a daemon,” Mercy said. “And I know what I said. My price remains the same, but you should know that the price I set is comparable to others who’d you ask.”

“Then there’d be another daemon who’d ask something even _more_ impossible?”

“Depending on the power they wielded, it’s possible.”

“It’s like you don’t want me to get my wish.”

Mercy didn’t move, but her face betrayed her. The edges of her lips moved a fraction of an inch up, and her eyes softened. It was like a burden was released from her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, master, but the price and the items remains the same,” she said. “It is all that I could do.”

Fareeha was about to tear into the daemon when the walkie-talkie on her hip squawked.

_“All units respond, respond. Violent counter-protestors are attacking Omnics downtown. Say again, violent counter-protestors—“_

Distant pops echoed off the buildings. Fareeha knew it well.

_“Shots fired! Shots fired! All units, move to containment, SWAT is on scene. All units are needed downtown!”_

“I need to go,” Fareeha spat. “Get Momo back, and lock the damn doors. This isn’t over, daemon.”

She pulled out her wallet and threw down a handful of bills. Then she was running to her car.

 

* * *

 

The day was ending, but Fareeha felt that she had been up for weeks.

There were dozens of police officers that responded to the protest-turned-riot, not to mention the hundreds of officers already at the scene of the counter-protest. Now that the worst was done, it was time for the detectives to earn their paychecks: they had to find out who started the violence, and they had to do it fast.

“Sometimes I wish they’d let us do speed,” Jesse sighed. He walked up to Fareeha holding four big cups of coffee; they’d split them two each.

“You say a lot of crazy things, but I’d have to agree with you on that,” Fareeha said. “Nothing like a little meth to wake you up. But until they do that, caffeine will have to do.”

“Amen to that,” Jesse said, draining half of his first cup in one go. “Alright, so where we at?”

“One of the only Omnic hospitals in town,” she said.

“Is it considered tasteless to call these places mechanic shops?”

“Not tasteless, but actually insulting,” Fareeha said. “As HR tells it, it’ll be like asking a human if they want to go to a butcher shop for a check-up.”

“Glad I double-checked,” Jesse muttered. “Then we’re gathering statements?”

“Yup. We’re gathering statements.”

“Well, they gotta have better memories that humans, right? Unless they delete them.”

“They should, but you might be getting close to crossing a line there.”

“Ugh. Tired Jesse is Insensitive Jesse.”

“Just play with the sympathy card, it’ll go a long way.”

“Well, let’s go in. Which Omnics do we have?”

“Here’s a list,” Fareeha said. She tore off a piece of paper from her notebook and handed it to her partner. “We both got four each.”

“Then we can go home?”

“Maybe.”

“Great. Move the goal posts, don’t you?”

“Stop bitching and get to work,” she sighed.

Fareeha knew not to call the building a mechanic shop, but it didn’t help that it smelled exactly like one. With Omnics being helped, there was a plethora of oil, pneumatic fluid and even welders at play. She walked in, and turned down a hallway to interview her first witness.

She politely knocked on the door.

“Come in,” an Omnic said.

Sitting on a bed was an Omnic who appeared to be dressed like a monk. He was bare chested, and wore yellow/gold pants with a red sash about his waist. He had nine eye-lenses, arrayed in a three-by-three grid on his forehead. Doctors were at work, examining him and deeming what was needed to fix his metal body.

“Is this a good time?” Fareeha asked. “I’ll need a minute with the witness.”

“We can take a break,” a doctor said. Like Fareeha, he was exhausted; it was obvious from his voice. “We’ll be just outside, freshening up.”

“Thank you,” she said as the doctors left. “I’m Detective Fareeha Amari. And you are Zenyatta, right?”

“That’s right, Detective,” the Ominc said.

“I wish we could meet under different circumstances.”

“L-likewise.”

Fareeha never heard an Omnic stutter before. The attack must’ve been horrible for him.

Then again, judging from the damage he had, Zenyatta was right to be shaken. His head was dented, a few eye-lenses cracked. There were four actuators that made up his neck, and one was twisted out of alignment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare, but I have to write an assessment of the attack.”

“I understand,” Zenyatta said.

“Can you tell me where you were when the attack began?”

“I was…I was near the podium at the head of the protest,” Zenyatta said. “I’m a representative of the Shambali monastery. Just last week I was in the Himalayas.”

“Why leave the Himalayas? Isn’t it safe there for Omnics?”

“Just because it is safe does not mean it is perfect. My Omnic brothers and sisters fight all over the world to be recognized as sentient beings. Locking ourselves away in a temple solves nothing; we must be on the frontlines of the battle, to help heal the rift that has grown between us.”

“I just might have to ask for a flyer for your temple,” Fareeha said. “My mother…my mother would love to talk to you.”

“All are welcome under the Iris,” Zenyatta said.

“I hate to bring you back to the attack, but I need your statement.”

“Of course,” the Omnic monk mumbled. “The attack…it started just after noon. I saw a group of humans pushing through the crowd. The crowd we were talking to was a mixture of humans and Omincs, although there were more Omincs than humans. I noticed them because they were a huge group of humans; maybe ten or so.

“I didn’t know what to think of them. They weren’t carrying any weapons that I could see; it didn’t seem right to scream for the police. By the time…by the time it they pulled them out, it was too late. They were upon us in no time.”

Fareeha nodded, letting the Ominc talk.

“By the Iris…I’d never seen anything like it,” Zenyatta mumbled. “I-I couldn’t make them out. Most of them were men, and some had beards, but, but, but what I couldn’t look past, what drew my attention were their eyes.

“It was hate, detective. Pure, distilled hate, the likes I’ve never seen before. They were looking at me like I was some…thing, some piece of junk. Each and every single one of them had that look of unadulterated, burning hate…it shocked me. I couldn’t move. And when they were at the front of the protest, near the podium, then they pulled out their weapons.”

Fareeha paused. She realized that Zenyatta’s voice was cracking, breaking up. He might be an Omnic, but she could hear his fear, his terror, as clear as day.

“Some had guns, but many had pipes and bats. And they just started swinging. I could tell they were swinging with all their might, with _more_ than their all. One of them jumped at me. He was a little smaller than me, but he swung harder than I could have ever imagined. And he was yelling at me…calling me a tin can, a robot, a trash compactor, every slur I ever heard and more!”

Zenyatta was crying. She had never seen an Omnic cry.

“And he just kept hitting me, even when the police pulled him off of me. He just kept swinging like his life depended on it. Detective, he was so sure of himself, so safe in his hate that nothing could come between him.”

Zenyatta tried to talk, but he couldn’t. It was strange, watching an Omnic cry. The sobs, the oil tears, the cries, it was all too human.

_He’s crying tears of oil,_ she realized.

Humans were cursed with Original Sin. But Omnics…they were sentient without being human. They were people without having sinned. There was no Original Sin the Omnics bore; there was no great uprising upon their creation. They were pure.

They were sinless.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Fareeha took a step closer to Zenyatta. There had to be something she could use to catch his tears.

Eyes darting across the room, she saw a case of small, plastic vials. It looked like they were used to hold samples of fluids; maybe to be tested? It didn’t matter. She quickly grabbed one and twisted the cap off.

She didn’t know what she was doing; she was making it up as she went. With one arm, she cradled Zenyatta’s head. His robotic arm gently took hers. With the vial in her other hand, she gently pressed it against his head.

Several tears of black oil dripped into the vial. She capped it with one hand and slid it into her pocket.

“I-I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back. “I’m not supposed to do that.”

“I understand,” Zenyatta mumbled. “But…thank you for that. I, I just needed something…I don’t even know _what_ I want.”

“We’ll be getting consolers for anyone who needs it.”

“Then I’d like to put my name on the list.”

“I’ll make sure you get put to the very top.”

“Thank you, detective. I wish I could be more helpful, but…but those looks. Those stares…I couldn’t get past it.”

“If it makes you feel better, we did apprehend several of the extremists. We even think we got their leader.”

“It doesn’t, but I thank you for the effort.”

“Of course,” Fareeha said. “I’ll let the doctors back in. But if you remember anything, or want to talk, here’s my card.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha unlocked the door to her apartment. The summer heat had cooled off, but it still felt nice to walk into an air-conditioned apartment. Maybe she’d keep it on, not just for Mercy’s sake. It was coming up on two o’clock, and she wanted nothing more to lay down. The vial of tears in her pocket felt like it weighted a hundred pounds, but she couldn’t help but feel ecstatic.

She shouldn’t have done that. It violated every ethics code she knew. But it was the first step to save her mom.

“Oh, my master is back,” Mercy said. She walked out of the guest room, wearing the large exercise t-shirt and basketball shorts she wore in the morning. Despite her exhaustion, Fareeha could feel her heart stirring just looking at the daemon. “It must’ve been a busy day. Are you tired?”

Fareeha took Mercy by the shoulder and pushed her against the wall. She was inches from her full, plump lips. Her entire body was inches away from hers; she was nearly grinding on the daemon.

“Maybe you’re not _that_ tired,” Mercy smiled, running a finger up Fareeha’s thigh. She smelled heavenly, not like fire and brimstone at all. There wasn’t even a hint of sulphur about her. “Are you finally making a move, oh bearer mine?”

“You bet I am,” Fareeha grinned.

Mercy’s eyes began to close, and she moved in for a kiss.

Fareeha wanted to mash her lips against Mercy’s, but there was something even better than that. She reached into her pocket and held up the small plastic vial, placing it against Mercy’s lips.

“What’s that?” Mercy asked.

“Can’t you feel it?” Fareeha grinned. “These are the tears of an Omnic. Guess what Omnics don’t have? Original Sin. These are the tears of the sinless.”

Mercy’s eyes widened. Her back stiffened in shock. Fareeha could feel her mood shift from arousal to fear.

“How many people have found this impossible item?” Fareeha laughed.

Mercy’s eyes were a mixture of emotion. Fareeha thought she’d see hatred and malice, but Mercy’s eyes were dilated. They were so wide, there was hardly any purple of her iris left.

“Didn’t think I’d find them, did you?”

Mercy was shaking. She was terrified, petrified.

“That leaves what, three more items? Then you must grant me my wish.”

Mercy pushed her away, running back to the guest room and slamming the door.

Grinning, Fareeha walked to the kitchen. She got a plastic container and placed the vial in it. She grabbed a silver bar, and put the container in the freezer, with the silver resting on top of it. Daemons and other otherworldly beings shouldn’t be able to touch silver, let alone lift it. Mercy would never get the chance to sabotage her.

She was one item closer to saving her mother.

Fareeha peeled off her clothes, changing into her sleepwear. She should’ve felt great about herself, but for some reason, her heart seemed to ache. Was it seeing Mercy in fear? Did she scare her? She seemed so shaken, so upset…

_Stop it,_ she thought. _She’s a daemon. Nothing more, nothing less._

But _why_ was she so scared? It was like Mercy didn’t want her soul, or to grant her wish. Her good mood soured as she climbed into bed. Across the hall, Momo scratched at the guest door, whining.

“Momo, come here,” Fareeha said, patting the bed. “Just let Mercy be.”

Momo trotted in the room, and jumped on the bed.

“Yea, I kinda miss her smile too, boy,” Fareeha said. “Now get to sleep, it’s too late to stay up. We have to get up early.”


	4. Chapter 4

The alarm didn’t wake Fareeha; Momo did.

“Ugh, I get it, stop,” she mumbled as Momo relentlessly licked her. “Ugh, fuck these late nights.”

She swung her legs out of bed and hit the alarm to get it to shut up.

“Jesse was right; they really should give us amphetamines to help wake up. Damn running days.”

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she quickly changed into running clothes and stumbled out of her room, stopping to look at the guest room door. It was still shut.

Shaking her head, she walked to the kitchen and pulled out a banana and a little cup of peanut butter.

“Breakfast of champions, right Momo?” She said, clipping on his leash. “Come on, let’s go for a run.”

The morning air was crisp and cool, blessedly not humid and still warming up to the sun’s rays. It was a good time to run, and Momo seemed to agree; he was able to run with her every single step of the way of her three-mile run.

Getting back to her apartment, Fareeha saw that Mercy still hadn’t come from her room.

_Wonder if I pushed her a little too hard last night,_ she wondered as she gave Momo his breakfast. She walked by the guest room as she went to take a shower. She wanted to knock on the door, bud didn’t. Not that it mattered; the daemon would get her soul in the end.

Dressed and ready for work, she was about to leave, but something stopped her.

“Just leave, Fareeha,” she whispered to herself. “She’s a daemon. Just let her be.”

But her feet had other plans for her. She walked from the door to the guest room.

“Mercy, you still there?” She asked, knocking on the door. “Mercy? You’d better not be trying to summon any of your friends here.”

“I’m here,” she mumbled.

“You aren’t summoning anything?”

“No.”

Mercy was usually more talkative than this.

“I’m leaving for work; I’ll leave the door cracked open so Momo could bother you.”

“Thank you.”

That caught her off-guard. For a daemon, Mercy was terribly polite.

“Y-you’re welcome,” she said.

_Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…_

“I’m…sorry about last night,” she said. “I didn’t want to throw it in your face. Not that much, not the way you reacted.”

Fareeha waited for nearly a minute.

“My master is kind,” Mercy said. She could hear the grin in her voice.

“Don’t raise Hell.”

What was her life coming to? She was actually caring about a daemon.

 

* * *

 

The precinct was even busier than normal, but it was a step up from the madhouse it was last night. With the stations already pushed to their limit with peaceful, disobedient Omnics and human allies, it was nearly broken with the rash of violent counter-protesters.

“You know, Jesse, I think you’re on something with the whole ‘giving us meth’ thing,” Fareeha said as she pushed her way to her desk.

“You say that every night you work late.”

“Does it make it any less true?”

“Absolutely not, darlin.’”

“So, on a scale from ‘ugly nun’ to ‘preacher’s daughter away at summer camp,’ how fucked are we?”

“Preacher’s daughter away at summer camp.”

“Joy,” she mumbled. “Let me guess: we have to identify which violent criminal could possibly be their leader.”

“You really were born to be a detective, weren’t you?”

“Shut it. We’ve got a dozen witness testimonies to sort through, dozens of hours of CCTV footage, forensic evidence coming out of the wazoo, and only eight hours of the day to sort through this.”

“Eight hours? This is another all-nighter.”

“For you. I have to see my mom today.”

“She’s still in the hospital? How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be doing better,” Fareeha said.

_Once I get these last three items._

 

* * *

 

Fareeha ended up working through lunch. Hungry and tired, she walked to her car, but despite her exhaustion, she was still giddy. She got to see her mother.

Driving through city traffic, she made her way back to her apartment to pick up Momo. Normally the hospital didn’t allow pets, but Momo had a way of melting everyone’s heart. That and the wing of the hospital her mother was at had more relaxed rules. It also helped that Ana was as much a mother to Momo as she was to Fareeha.

The second she opened the door, Momo was there waiting for her.

“You know what day it is, don’t you boy?” Fareeha laughed. “Come on, let’s see mom.”

Momo barked, anxious to see his mom. Fareeha put him on a leash, and was about to leave when she saw the guest room door still barely open; no one touched it since this morning.

“She says she’s mercy, doesn’t she Momo?” She said. Momo huffed in response. “Let’s show her why mom needs her mercy. Maybe then she’ll work with me, not against. Does that sound like a good idea boy?”

Momo cocked his head, his ears flopping over.

“Yea, let’s get her,” Fareeha smiled. She walked over to the guest room and opened the door. Was Mercy still wearing her white-purple-and-black outfit? Was she wearing her old exercise clothes? Or was she wearing nothing at all…?

Mercy wasn’t naked, much to her disappointment. She was wearing her old work-out clothes, doing her lying on thin air trick, reading one of the dozens of books that were crammed on a shelf.

“Still wearing my work out cloths, huh?” She said.

“Ah, my master returns,” Mercy said, setting the book down. “Don’t tell me you found the other items.”

“Not yet,” Fareeha said. “Find some of my cloths that fit you. We’re going out.”

“Oh, is master taking me out on a date?” Mercy smiled. It made Fareeha’s heart flutter.

“No. I’m taking you to see my mother.”

“I don’t think I’m that kind of girl.”

“Girl? Daemons have sexes?”

“And angels, too.”

“Then you’re…you’re _not_ just what I want to see? This is what you actually look like?”

“Last I checked.”

“Oh.”

Fareeha could feel herself blushing. If Mercy actually looked that way, and not just what she wanted her to look like…

“Yes, master?” Mercy said, her old mischievous grin creeping back onto her lips as Fareeha eyeballed her.

“J-just get dressed,” Fareeha stammered. “There should be some of my clothes that would fit you. And hide your wings.”

“As you say, oh bearer mine.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.

“This is where your mother is?” Mercy asked. She sat in the backseat with Momo.

“It is. Why? You sound hesitant.”

“It’s…hospitals always make me melancholic,” Mercy said.

“Melancholic? Why?”

“It’s an old, _old_ story,” she said, getting out of the car with Momo. Mercy decided to wear one of Fareeha’s old summer dresses. It was black with printed red roses, airy enough to be comfortable but still fit her just fine. Fareeha had to pry her eyes of Mercy’s ass, just to check that her wings were properly hidden underneath the dress, which they were. She didn’t see her tail, however.

“Don’t forget your hat,” she called, picking up a straw, wide brimmed hat.

“Of course,” Mercy said, taking the hat. It hid her horns perfectly. “So, you’ve known me for three days, and you’re already taking me to meet your mother. This has to be a record, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t like that,” Fareeha said, locking her car.

“But we look perfect together, don’t we?” Mercy smiled. “You in your slacks and dress blouse, oh and your badge! You’re the perfect image of a strong, protective woman, and me in this dress, and Momo? Face it, oh bearer mine, we make a great team.”

Mercy took her arm as they walked, making Fareeha blush and stutter. But it did feel nice to have Mercy’s arm on hers, even if she knew Mercy was a daemon.

“Your sure people won’t see you as a daemon?” Fareeha asked.

“Humans only see what they want to see,” Mercy said. “You see me as a daemon, so I am. Those con-goers wanted to see something fantastic, so they did.”

“And the people here?”

“I can’t know what they want to see.”

Was bringing Mercy a good idea?

“Well, it’s too late to turn back,” Fareeha sighed. “Here, we’ll need to sign in at the desk.”

The sliding doors to the home opened, and the receptionist looked up.

“Oh, hey Fareeha,” he smiled. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too, Samir,” she smiled. “Two to sign in. Three, if you count Momo.”

Momo stood up at the desk, gently barking.

“Hey there, Momo,” Samir said, petting the dog. “Who’s your guest?”

“She’s a friend—“

“I’m Mercy,” the daemon said, holding out her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Samir said, shaking her hand. “Here with our girl Fareeha?”

“Of course! She’s my master.”

That made Samir blush, but not as much as Fareeha blushed.

“I-I see,” he stammered, averting his eyes. “Didn’t mean to pry, or anything…uh, sorry Fareeha, but my boss is still in. You’ll have to wait to bring Momo in. But his fan club is still out on the decks, they’ll love to see him.”

“Hear that, you lovable attention whore?” Fareeha said, ruffling Momo’s fur. “More people get to fawn over you.”

“Is that just outside?” Mercy asked. “You go to your mother, Fareeha. I’ll make sure Momo doesn’t bask in too much glory.”

Fareeha shot Mercy a glare.

“I’m not going to run away, _master,_ ” she smiled. “I give you my word.”

“You’d better not,” Fareeha muttered. She thumbed the Ring of Solomon she made sure to always wear.

“Don’t you worry,” Mercy said, blowing her a kiss. “Come on, Momo.”

Fareeha watched as Mercy sauntered outside, hips swaying rhythmically. Of all the daemons she summoned, she had to summon a fucking strip-tease.

“A-are you…did she really mean that?” Samir asked. “That you’re her master…?”

“Samir, please, it’s complicated,” she groaned.

“Yea, you’re right, not my business,” he said. “Well, you’re all signed in. Your mom is on the second-floor balcony. Oh, and she has company too.”

“Company? Who is it?”

“Not my business,” he smiled. “But they’ve been talking for the past three days.”

Fareeha gave him a look, but went for the stairs to the second floor. Her mother should be finished with dialysis, and the dialysis-induced nap. She wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, and not just to avoid going back to work. As she walked to the second-floor balcony, she saw her mom sitting outside at a table.

And sitting next to her was a white-haired man. His cane was on the seat next to him.

“Hi mom,” she said, walking out to the balcony.

Ana turned around, almost as if her entrance surprised her. Life and energy was in her eye; she seemed ten years younger.

“Fareeha!” She said. “Is it really the day of your visit? Oh, time must’ve slipped by me. Honey, I want you to meet Jack Morrison. He’s new here.”

The man, Jack, sat next to her mom. He had a proud jaw and striking eyes. They were the kind of eyes that could glare a hole through solid steel, but now his eyes seemed to be filled with joy. He smiled and moved to stand up.

“No need, Mr. Morrison,” Fareeha said. “You look plenty comfortable there.”

“Please, just call me Jack,” he said. His voice was gruff, but warm.

Fareeha bend down to give her mother a kiss, then pulled up a chair.

“So, what are you in here for, Mr. Jack?” She asked.

“Melanoma,” he said. “Funny thing is, I always used sunscreen. Go figure, right?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, shit happens to everyone sometime, right? I’m glad that I finally meet the infamous Fareeha Amari.”

“Oh Allah, mom, what did you tell him…?”

“Just how proud you make me,” Ana said, wrapping her in a fierce hug.

“She loves me so much it hurts,” Fareeha sighed, hugging her mom back. “Samir at the front desk says you’ve been talking non-stop for nearly three days. Jack, is my mother talking you crazy?”

“Quite the contrary,” Jack said, “I’ve probably did more talking than she did.”

“But not by much,” Ana laughed.

“That’s right, she has me beat when she talks about you.”

“Jack, please, tell it to me straight,” Fareeha groaned, “just what has my mother told you?”

“Well, she started with when you were born—“

“Oh, sweet, merciful Allah…”

“—and you got here when she was getting to your college years,” Jack said. “Gotta say, I’ve never heard of a mom who’s proud to say her daughter slept her way through half the graduating class.”

“What the fuck? Mom!!”

“Sweetheart, it’s a mother’s duty to embarrass her children,” Ana smiled. “And that was one thing you got from your father. To tell the truth, his gallivanting ways was what really drew me to him all those years ago. I’m so glad to see you took after him, my Lesbian Lothario.”

“Holy shit, mom, you can’t just say that!” Fareeha spat. “And I _didn’t_ sleep my way through half the graduating class! You weren’t there!”

“You’re right,” Ana sighed. “It was probably more.”

“Mom!”

“Totally more,” Jack laughed.

“Mom, you can’t tell people you’ve just met all about me!”

“Well, what else is there to do?” Ana said. “You’re the one thing in my life I’m most proud of, Ana. I love you more than you’d ever know. How am I not supposed to brag about you?”

“Maybe by listening to someone else’s kids?” Fareeha said. “Did you let Jack get a word in about his kids?”

“I’m a widower. Never had kids.”

“Oh. Oh Allah, I’m so sorry.”

 “It’s fine, it happened decades ago,” he said. “Got a late start, and things didn’t pan out. She died in childbirth, and I just threw myself into my work to hide from it all.”

“What was it you did?”

“I’m a military man,” he said. “Full-on lifer. Started out enlisted, turned mustang, ended up a Major General.”

“Major General? Forgive me, I’m only a cop, but that’s a three-star general, isn’t it?”

“Two, actually.”

“Then sir, it’s a great honor.”

“You know, there was time when I’d say ‘that’s ‘sir’ to you,’ but I’ve gotten over that,” Jack laughed. “Please, just call me Jack. Now your mom has had quite the career. An Egyptian police officer turned American immigrant, worked her way up to the number-two cop in the entire city, and raising a wonderful child to boot. Now that’s worthy of a memoir.”

“A memoir?” Ana laughed. “Who’d read it?”

“For starters, I would.”

“Jack, you’re just an old, crotchety man. You’d read anything.”

“If I’m being honest, I’d read anything you’d write,” he said. “But that story is something just begging to be told.”

“I could say the same thing about you. Working your way up from an enlisted man to a two-star General; now that’s a story worth telling.”

“Please, I’m just some farm-boy from Indiana,” he laughed. “But hearing of a woman immigrating to the States, joining the police, becoming the first Egyptian First Deputy Superintendent of the police? The second highest ranking cop in a major American city, all while being a single mother? That’s American! That’s the American Dream!

“Coming with nothing but hopes and ambitions, and fighting your way up the ranks so you can make something for your daughter. Shit, if that was any _more_ American, you’d shit warm, home-made apple pie with a side of ice cream!”

Fareeha stared at her mother as she talked and laughed with Jack. The way her eye gleamed, the energy in her voice, in her entire body, she hadn’t seen her mother this energetic, this alive, in years.

Fareeha was almost slack-jawed. Her mother was in love. Head over heels in love.

The door to the balcony opened, and Mercy walked in. Momo bayed, pulling at the leash, trying to jump all over Ana.

“Sorry, there were some people I just had to talk to,” Mercy said.

“Ah, there’s my Momo! Did you miss me?” Ana laughed as Momo jumped into her lap.

“Momo, easy, don’t jump all over mom,” Fareeha said.

Momo eased up, then saw there was a strange man sitting by him. He jumped from Ana’s lap to almost jumping over Jack.

“Good boy,” Jack laughed as Momo sniffed him. Satisfied that Jack was friendly, Momo tried to drown him in licks, too.

“Is this a new friend?” Ana asked.

“Mom, this is Mercy,” Fareeha said. “Mercy, this is my mom, Ana.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mercy smiled, gently shaking hands with Ana. “You’re just the world to Fareeha.”

Momo left Jack alone. Seeing Mercy, he stared at her. The color drained from his face.

“Is this your new girlfriend?” Ana asked.

“Mom!”

“You’re usually quick to say ‘yes.’”

“Uh, it’s just…we’re trying something different,” Fareeha stammered.

“My Fareeha said she that I’m different from the other girls she’s seen,” Mercy smiled, sitting in Fareeha’s lap.

“I’m so glad to see you trying something different,” Ana smiled. “Do you think this is the woman who’ll change your ways?”

“Allah, mom, you can’t just say things like that!”

“I’m sorry Fareeha, but you know I have to be nosey,” she laughed. “How did you meet?”

“Through a book,” Mercy smiled.

“Over a book? That’s exactly how I met her father!”

“That’s so sweet,” Mercy said.

“Allah, it’s so long ago, but it still feels like yesterday,” Ana sighed. “Fareeha, what made you want to try something new?”

“Uh, she…she seemed like the kind of girl who’d get away from me easily,” she stammered. She looked up, only to see Mercy staring deep into her eyes. She felt like she was falling into those purple eyes. “The kind who’d…the kind who had more power over me than I thought.”

“And you wanted to see if that was the real thing?”

“Yea, exactly that.”

The door opened, and Samir from the front desk poked his head out.

“Mr. Morrison? Your doctor is here.”

Jack was still staring open-mouthed at Mercy. Only Mercy noticed that he was staring at her.

“I’ll take him,” she said, getting up from Fareeha’s lap. “The doctor is seeing him in his room?”

“Yea, it’s on the fourth floor,” Samir said.

“No problem,” Mercy smiled. She held out her hand. “Shall we go, Jack?”

Jack’s hand was shaking as he reached for Mercy. She helped him up, handed him his cane, and walked in with him.

“I’m so glad you’re finally deciding to get serious, Fareeha,” Ana said.

“Enough about me, what’s the deal with Jack?” She asked. “I haven’t seen you this alive in years.”

Ana turned to where Jack left. She watched him through the glass as Mercy walked with him towards his room.

“He…he’s special, Fareeha,” she said. “He completes me in a way that I never knew. I thought I was whole before, but when I saw him, I realized how much of me I was missing. It’s like, it’s like when I first met your father. Sparks flew then, too.”

Fareeha looked at her mother. She’d never seen her happier.

“I should’ve met him twenty years ago.”

“Mom, there’s plenty of time for you to be with him.”

“Fareeha, you of all people should know better than that,” she laughed.

“Let’s just say I have a good feeling where things are going,” Fareeha smiled. “Now, how did you meet?”

“It was just after my nap after dialysis, when you left. I was hungry, so I went to the kitchen to see what they had. I got a parfait, and then the most handsome man walked up to me. He said that I was the most interesting, beautiful woman he’d seen, and he _had_ to talk to me.

“Now, I thought it was flattery, but who was I to turn down flattery? I said that the there wasn’t anyone else at the table. He sat down, and next thing either of us knew, the kitchen workers were kicking us out. It was eleven o’clock, Fareeha. We sat there and talked for nearly ten hours. And neither of us knew it!”

Ana was positively glowing. She was beyond over the moon.

“I’m so happy for you, mom,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you any happier than you are right now.”

“Thank you, Fareeha. Now, tell me about this Mercy girl!”

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Morrison? Your doctor is here.”

“I’ll take him,” Mercy said, getting up from Fareeha’s lap. “The doctor is seeing him in his room?”

“Yea, it’s on the fourth floor,” Samir said.

“No problem,” Mercy smiled. She held out her hand. “Shall we go, Jack?”

Jack’s hand was shaking as he reached up to take her hand. She helped him up, handed him his cane, and walked in with him.

“Which way do we go?” Mercy asked, gently offering Jack an arm.

He pointed towards an elevator at the end of the hall, his hand still shaking. His hands were shaking so bad, he nearly dropped his cane.

“Think you can get him there?” Samir asked.

“I’ll be just fine, thank you,” Mercy smiled.

Samir turned to take the stairs down, leaving her alone with Jack as she escorted him down the hall.

“Are you here to take me?” Jack asked.

“Take you?” She said. “Of course. I’m taking you to your room so your doctor can see you.”

“You know what I mean,” Jack growled. Any warmth in his voice disappeared, leaving a brutally hard edge.

“I do,” Mercy said. “I’m sorry, I like playing games.”

“Then don’t play them with me,” Jack snapped. “What are you?”

“I’m Mercy.”

“I didn’t ask for your name, I want to know who you are.”

“I told you: I’m mercy. That is my name, and it’s what I do.”

“But you’re not here to take me?”

“There was a time where I would,” she said. “But those are old days that are long past me. Now, I do this because I want to, not because I have to.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“You mean here, taking you to your room, or here on this world?”

“On this world.”

Mercy was quiet.

“My master wants me to do something for her,” she finally, carefully, said.

“Who’s your master?”

“Does it matter?” She said. “I’m not here to take you.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To grant mercy.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to pause.

“Then you’re…you’re death?”

“Goodness, no!” Mercy laughed. “If I was Death, everyone on this building would be dead the second I walked in. Granted, there’s a lot of overlap between me and Death, but I’m Mercy; nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then why did you offer to take me to my room?”

“Because you saw what I really was,” she said. “Humans have this strange way of seeing the world: you only see what they want to see. Fareeha? She sees me as a daemon. Ana? Well, I’m not sure _what_ Ana wants to see in me. But you? You want to see mercy, don’t you?”

“What do you mean, Fareeha wants to see a daemon?”

“She thinks she can use me to save her mother. She’s not wrong.”

“But she’s not right either?”

“When you start asking questions and demanding favors, things become complicated. But my question still stands: you want to see mercy, don’t you?”

“Do you always ask people if they want peace?”

“Only those in pain,” Mercy said. The doors to the elevator slid open as they reached it. “There were some men and women in the front of the building. They were in terrible pain; they wanted mercy, and I gave it to them.”

“Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do. You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jack, I can see it in you. You’re at stage four, aren’t you?”

Jack bit his tongue. The elevator slid open, and they walked out.

“You’re in pain. Horrible pain. You want to see mercy, but you don’t want me. Why’s that?”

“I’ll tell you why,” he said. “Do you know what it feels like to be broken? To know that there’s a part of you that’s missing, and no matter what you do, you just can’t get it?”

“More than you know,” Mercy said.

“Then do you know what it feels like to finally get that part back?” He said. “To finally feel whole?”

Mercy looked over her shoulder, back at the glass-lined balcony. She could still make out Fareeha.

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll tell you: you feel like you’re on fire. Like you can do anything. Fly to the moon? I can do that. Swim the entire ocean? Sounds like a good warm-up. You can do anything once you find that missing part of you. If you came to me last week, I’d have said take me. But I found that missing part of me. I found it, and now…”

Jack choked up. Tears welled in his eyes.

“I should’ve met her twenty years ago,” he cried. “Not now. Oh God, why did it have to be now?”

“Because it had to be,” Mercy said. “That’s how things work.”

“But I don’t want you now,” he said. “I want to spend all of my time with her.”

“It can’t be that way.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He snapped. “You said you’re Mercy, right?”

“Jack, I don’t like where you’re going.”

“Damn that, I want more time with that woman. You said you can see my pain, my suffering. Right?”

“Jack…”

“Yes or no?!”

“Yes, I can see it.”

“Did you see how happy I was with Ana?”

“The blind could see your happiness.”

“Then give me mercy, give me more time with her.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Mercy said. “I give mercy, not time. There’s only one force that can give time, and that force has his own way of doing things. Yahweh gave me a Task: grant mercy. The only way for me to give you more time is to break my Task. You need mercy, not extra time.

“If I break my Task, I would be spurning Yahweh; I’d become Cruelty. And you? It would change you; corrupt you. You’ll have more time, but the price you’d pay would be too great. You wouldn’t even be able to enjoy your time with Ana.”

Jack glared at her.

“Jack, please.”

“Then can you take away this pain?” He asked. “Give me more time without changing me like you said?”

“It would be temporary.”

“All I want is more time with her,” he said. “Nothing else matters.”

“Careful, Jack. You’re getting close to powers and pacts that you can’t even begin to fathom.”

“Then can you tell me how much time I have left?”

“I’m Mercy, not Fate.”

“Damn you,” he cursed. “Damn you to hell.”

“If it makes any difference, I was cast out of Heaven.”

“Does that make you a daemon?”

“No, I don’t live in Hell.”

“Then are you an angel?”

“The difference between angel and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time,” Mercy said. “So tell me, Jack: how do you see me?

Jack looked at Mercy.

“You have blonde hair,” he said. “So blonde it’s almost gold. And large, white feathered wings. And…and you glow.”

“Then you see me as an angel, the angel of Mercy,” she said, smiling radiantly. “Different from how Fareeha sees me. I haven’t felt that way in such a long time.”

They both paused as they reached a door.

“This is my room,” Jack said.

“Then how about this,” Mercy said. “I can only grant you mercy. But it can be mercy from the pain. It won’t add more time to you, but it could make things more bearable for a short time, give you more time to spend with your beloved. I’m not a miracle worker. Well, _most_ of the time.”

“Don’t worry about me, I know what I have to do.”

Unfurling her white feathered wings, Mercy touched his hand. A light grew from where she touched him, and Jack could feel the pain abating.

“Thank you.”

“Now go do what you have to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

Fareeha unlocked her apartment, and Momo trotted in, immediately going to his little doggy pillow.

“Yea, all that attention tuckered you out, didn’t it?” She said. “Well, Mercy, you said that visiting hospitals makes you feel melancholic. Still in that mood?”

“I am,” the daemon said, following Fareeha in. “That much hasn’t changed.”

“I didn’t even know that daemons could feel anything,” Fareeha said. “Wait, let me guess: you’re not a daemon.”

“My master is learning,” Mercy smiled. She turned her back and began pulling off the dress she borrowed. Fareeha let herself stare. Mercy filled out her borrowed boyshorts all too well.

With the dress pulled off, she was able to stretch her wings, and let her tail uncoil from around her waist.

“Aaah, much better,” she sighed happily.

“You’re not wearing a bra?”

“You’re a little chestier than me,” Mercy said with an over-the-shoulder wink, “oh bearer mine.”

“I can’t believe I took you to meet my mother without a damned bra…”

“But no one was the wiser,” she laughed. “I hate to be a bother, but it has been a while since I ate human food, and it is so very tasty.”

“I’m hungry, too. There’s a Chinese place down the street that knows me by name. I’ll put an order in.”

“You’re a familiar then?”

“I’m a cop; I have all sorts of odd hours,” Fareeha laughed. “Can’t exactly cook all the time, so I order out a lot. It also helps they’re open twenty-four hours.”

Fareeha pulled out her phone and walked to the kitchen, seeing what else she had while she ordered.

“Hi Joe, this is Fareeha…Yes, it has been a while. Yea, the usual. Wait, double it, I got company…Why the hell does everyone say that about me?! No, I didn’t sleep my way through police academy! Oh, don’t you start with me about the whole ‘woman of lose morals’ bit, I won’t tip if you do that…A few minutes? Great, give my love to the missus. No, I didn’t sleep with her! That joke got old years ago!”

Exasperated, she hung up the phone and tossed in the table. She could hear Mercy laugh from across the apartment.

“It looks like your love of women is coming back to haunt you,” she teased.

“Don’t start,” Fareeha pleaded. “Please don’t.”

“No guarantees, oh bearer mine.”

_I’m to gay and not drunk enough to deal with this,_ she thought. _Well, they still think I’m taking care of my mom; they won’t call me if something happens._

Fortunately, Fareeha kept several bottles of wine in her apartment. She pulled two bottles and glasses out and brought them to the table. Mercy walked back, wearing her old work-out clothes.

“Did you do something to your hair?” Fareeha asked. “It seems…washed out. Blonder.”

“I haven’t,” Mercy said. She sat down, but was perching in mid-air as opposed to using a chair.

“Right, keep forgetting that you could lie.”

“But I told you, I’d never lie to you,” she said.

Fareeha couldn’t uncork the bottle fast enough. She had to drown this feeling, and do it quick.

“May I ask you a question?” Mercy asked, taking her glass of wine.

“Why do you want to know me better?” Fareeha asked. She first took a long pull from the bottle before pouring her glass. “You’ll have my soul soon enough.”

“But I _do_ want to know you better, oh bearer mine,” Mercy smiled. “Your mother said you slept with a lot of women; why so many?”

Fareeha gave Mercy a hard look. What was she trying to learn?

“I like women,” she finally said. “I’ve always liked them. They’re just…so pretty, and there’s always a new, pretty woman around. I guess I can’t control myself. Maybe I got that from my dad, too.”

“It’s been said that a gentleman is a lover of fine wine, fast cars, and beautiful women.” Mercy demurely lifted her wine glass. “Two of those three are in front of you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Fareeha mumbled.

The door rang, and Fareeha got up to buzz the delivery boy in.

“Quick service,” Mercy said.

“I’m a cop, and a frequent customer. They love me.”

She opened the door, taking the food from the deliver, giving him a nice tip.

“No Momo, this isn’t dog food,” she scolded. Momo, smelling the food, was trying to beg for some. “Mercy, can you get some dog food from the kitchen?”

“Already ahead of you,” she said. Fareeha could hear her fill Momo’s dog bowl, then saw her give Momo two dog treats.

“You’ll spoil him.”

“I like dogs.”

“You like teasing me too, don’t you?”

“You’re just so pretty,” she said, smiling radiantly.

That just made her blush.

“S-stop it,” she said. “You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“I told you, I don’t lie,” Mercy said, opening her fried rice. “Mmm. This smells heavenly. Humans know how to make food.”

“Can you please stop with the flirting?” Fareeha asked.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“I do!” Fareeha blurted that out before she could stop herself. “B-but it has to stop.”

“Why?” Mercy said, her mouth full.

“Because I’m trying to sell my soul to you, that’s why! You’ll have me all to yourself soon enough.”

Mercy’s eyes dropped. It looked like she wanted to say something, but stopped herself.

“As you wish, master,” she said.

Suddenly it felt like something in Fareeha died. She tried to drown the feeling, but realized that her glass was empty. She poured herself more and went back to eating.

“Do all daemons like women?” She asked. “Or is it just you?”

“Do all women love women?” Mercy replied.

“Allah, sometimes I wish they did! There’ve been plenty of women I asked out, only to be shot down.”

“The same is for daemons and angels. Some do, some don’t, some couldn’t care less.”

“But you do?”

“I thought I made that clear,” Mercy smiled, “oh bearer mine.”

Fareeha realized just how close she was to Mercy. Did the daemon move closer? No, she was the one who moved closer.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that,” she mumbled, scooting her chair back.

Mercy stopped her by gently taking her hand.

“Why not?” She asked, leaning forward.

“Because…” There was something in Mercy’s eyes. “I-I don’t want to talk about it,” she stammered. “Why are you a daemon?”

“My master is changing the subject,” Mercy pouted.

“Damn right I am,” Fareeha said, finishing her glass of wine. “As your master, I command you to tell me why you’re a daemon.”

“But I told you, I’m not a daemon,” Mercy said.

“Then why do you look like one?”

“I told you what the difference between angels and daemons are, didn’t I?”

“Something about ‘depends upon where one is standing at the time,’ right?”

“Exactly,” Mercy smiled. “You see me as a daemon because of where you’re standing.”

“Then if I change where I’m standing, what I believe, I’ll see you differently?”

Mercy nodded happily.

“But are there actual daemons?” Fareeha asked. “Angels who rebelled against Allah?”

“There are, but even their appearances can change,” Mercy said, sipping her wine. “After all, if one sees the Morningstar as an ally, he will look like one.”

“The Morningstar? You mean Lucifer? He’s real?”

“As real as me.”

“How did it happen?”

“Talking about the Morningstar’s Rebellion is…difficult to humans,” Mercy said. “Are you familiar with the tale?”

“My parents actually met over _Paradise Lost_.”

“No! My, this world is certainly smaller than I thought,” Mercy laughed. “Then you have a good understanding of the basics. Now, the Morningstar _did_ rebel, but after he found out a truth about angels.

“Each angel was made my Yahweh to perform a Task. I am Mercy; I give mercy. The Morningstar was made to make stars and light, to tell the truth. Gabriel was Yahweh’s messenger, carrying his will, so forth and so forth.

“Until the Morningstar, we thought it impossible to do anything else. But then he found that he could break Yahweh’s control over him. Instead of making light for the Almighty, he made light for himself, and then he destroyed some of the light Yahweh wanted.

“Turning against his Task, _breaking_ his Task, turned him into a daemon, the first Fallen Angel. Breaking ones Task is supposed to be a horrible, traumatizing experience. But it also makes the daemon powerful. When he broke his Task, the Morningstar was drunk on his own power; either he ignored the trauma, or thrived on it. He gathered all who’d stand with him, namely Gabriel, and they broke their Tasks. Driven mad, they went to war against Yahweh to truly free themselves from His clutches.

“The War in Heaven was a terrible thing, lasting centuries. But Yahweh is Yahweh; no matter how powerful the Morningstar and his allies became, they could not match Yahweh. In the end, they were not only cast out, but truly damned. Now they rule in Hell.

“When Yahweh made humans, he gave you free will, something us angels lack. But he also took away our immortality and powers. It is a fair trade-off for you to be masters of your own destiny.”

“So where do you fit in?” Fareeha asked.

Mercy glared at her, all humor evaporating.

“I have not abandoned my Task,” she snapped. “I am Mercy, and shall forever be Mercy. I will not turn on my Divinely Ordained Task. I was molded by Yahweh to carry a fraction of his Mercy, and I will continue to perform that function, even if I’m not needed in Heaven.”

“I-I didn’t mean to…” Fareeha never saw Mercy so incited. “I didn’t want to insult you. Honest.”

Mercy glared at her, but relented.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But talking about my Task, and why I was cast out…it is touchy. I hope you can understand.”

“Why were you cast out then? If you’re not damned, if you’re not a daemon, why can’t you go back to Heaven? If I can ask, that is.”

Mercy took a second to drain her glass of wine. Fareeha refilled it.

“I never abandoned my Task, I merely followed it,” she said. “And I followed it too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are things that have to be,” she said. “Things that Yahweh plans out. Things that are already written. And many of those things are cruel. Necessary, given the world that humans have made for themselves, but I don’t believe that justifies those cruelties. There would always be those in need.”

“You gave them mercy when they shouldn’t have gotten it,” Fareeha gasped, realization dawning on her.

“I did,” Mercy said. “Some small acts of mercy, some large, but it was all a mercy. And those mercies ran counter to Yahweh’s plan. I couldn’t be damned; I was performing my Task. But I couldn’t go unpunished, either. As a compromise, I remained an angel, but was cast out.”

Fareeha drained her glass yet again.

“I’m sorry I called you a daemon,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know.”

“At the risk of sounding condescending, how could you?” Mercy said. “You’re human. You see what you want to see, and you’re right to be wary of daemons.”

She held up her glass for another refill. Fareeha had to uncork the second bottle.

“Now,” Mercy said, “we left off at you.”

“Me?”

“Who else?” Mercy laughed. “Why did you move away from me? I’d worked so hard getting close to you.”

Fareeha didn’t want to answer. But something that pried the truth from her. Was it the wine? Was it Mercy performing her Task?

“Because I’m scared that I’d lose myself,” she heard herself say.

“What do you mean?”

“I-I’m scared of women,” Fareeha stammered. Something broke lose inside of her. “I’ve seen my mother hurt. I’ve seen her cry over my father. They left each other, and my mom was different, I knew she was different even if I’ve never seen her whole before. I’ve never seen her so happy as she was today, with Jack, but I’m scared she’ll just lose that bit of her again.”

“You’re scared of what you love?” Mercy was pulling the truth out of her, she knew it.

“I’m scared of what they could do to me. My mother told me that to love someone would be to surrender a part of yourself to them, and…and that scares me. I’m afraid that I’ll love someone, and end up broken, like my mom. Allah, why am I even telling you this?”

“Because I’m Mercy,” the angel said. “Do you know what Mercy means?”

“Peace? Forgiveness? Help?”

“Yes. It’s all those things. But it also means to alleviate distress. Fareeha, you’re distressed. You’re in pain. You’re ruled by fear. Some of that fear is that if you open up, you’ll only hurt yourself. Do you know why you feel that way?”

Tears blurred her vision.

“I’ve never met my father,” she mumbled. “I’ve only seen my mom cry over it.”

It must be the wine. It must be. It can’t be her, it just can’t be her…

“Is that why you push so many women away?” Mercy asked. “Have you thought about what they want? What they love? What they fear?”

_Oh, Allah, what have I done?_

Fareeha felt the tears come, hot and heavy.

“It’s alright,” Mercy said, pulling her close. “I’m here now. You’re at peace. You’ve found mercy. I forgive you.”

“But why?” Fareeha cried. “Why do I deserve this?”

“Everyone deserves mercy. The only shame is that there’s not enough mercy for everyone.”

Mercy gently cupped her head in her hands, and looked deep into her eyes.

“I’m here now,” she smiled. “I heard your cry. I see your pain, and I want to help you. I’m here to help; despite what happens, despite what actions befall us, I’m here because I care about you, and I want you to be safe.”

“Why me?” Fareeha asked. “Why me?”

“Out there, in the either, where the spirits and the angels and the daemons dwell, I heard you,” Mercy said. “I saw a beautiful woman in pain, in need of help. I saw something in you that reminded me of me, something that reminded me of a missing part of myself. And I couldn’t ignore that.”

Oh great Allah, what did she do to deserve such a creature?

“And it helped that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my life,” Mercy laughed. “And I’ve lived for a very, very long time.”

Fareeha wrapped Mercy in a tight hug. She needed her. She needed her like she never knew she did. And Mercy pulled her closer. She didn’t know how long Mercy held her as she cried. All she knew is that she felt safe, and whole.

She only broke the embrace to look Mercy in her beautiful blue eyes, and then she kissed her. The way she kissed her wasn’t like the other times she kissed her girlfriends. She kissed them like they were about to run away, or like they were igniting gunpowder; brilliantly flaring to life, only to burn out seconds later.

No, she kissed Mercy like she had all the time in the world. It was deep, passionate, and gentle. Mercy kissed her back, her full lips gently pressing back. She tasted only faintly of fried rice and wine, but it only served to amplify her desire.

They left the food forgotten at the table. They barely made it to Fareeha’s room before they fell into each other.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Fareeha woke with a jolt. Her alarm was chirping, and chirping loudly.

She usually woke easily, like she was subconsciously waiting for the alarm to go off. But her alarm scared her awake. She was in the middle of the deepest sleep she could ever remember having. She was dead to the world, something that never happened before.

Reaching for the alarm to shut it up, she nearly hit Mercy in the head. She was spooning the creature, holding her close like her life depended on it. She could feel Mercy’s wings against her chest. They felt soft and feathery. Somehow, Mercy didn’t seem to have any horns.

Blinking, Fareeha could remember her entire night with Mercy, which was more than she could say about some of her girlfriends.

“It can’t be morning already, can it?” Mercy mumbled. She grabbed Fareeha’s hands and held them close to her.

“It is,” she mumbled. “What does this make us?”

“What do you want this to make us?” Mercy asked.

Fareeha was about to answer, but realized she couldn’t.

“I…I’ve never felt this before,” she said. “I like this. No, I love this. I want every single second with you to be like this.”

“Then you shall have it,” Mercy said, “oh bearer mine. All I am, and more.”

Fareeha didn’t quite know what Mercy meant, but she could feel it. She could feel the intentions, deep within her bones, and she felt it back.

“You’re the only one I want to be with,” she said. “No one else.”

“And I don’t want to be anyone else’s,” Mercy said, “just you.”

“I wish we could just lie here, forever. Not a care in the world.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming up,” Mercy said.

“There is. I have to get to work.”

“No wonder so many humans curse their jobs.”

“But I love my job…“

“You just stopped there, master. Have you realized something?”

“I—I don’t care about my job,” Fareeha stammered. “Not compared to you.”

“Then you’ve realized what’s important.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Fareeha said, panicking. “I _love_ my job. Ever since I was a girl, I’ve wanted to be like my mother, and be a police woman. I’ve broken up with girls over it. Girls I’ve loved. But this, but you, I’d give my job up in a second, just to be with you.”

“You’re panicking, oh bearer mine.”

“Damn right I’m panicking! I’ve given everything to my job! I…this is what I was talking about, giving everything up for someone!”

“But this is good,” Mercy laughed. “It shows you what you hold important. It shows you what you value.”

Fareeha’s heart was hammering in her chest. What was her life coming to?

“I want to stay here, too,” Mercy said. “I’d give up everything, just as you. You think that giving up your job is scary? I would give up my Task to be with you.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Mercy said, squeezing her hand. “And because I see so much of myself in you. Maybe I just want to give myself some of the mercy I’ve given others. Maybe I think we both deserve the same mercy. Maybe I’m just being selfish. All I know is that I want you, more than anyone. I’d like to live here for a while longer.”

“You’d like to live here?” Fareeha laughed. “How long do you want to stay here?”

“The rest of our lives.”

“Then I’d better get to work,” Fareeha said. She tried to get up, but Mercy held her tight. “I said, I’d better get to work. I have to feed Momo, I have to shower, I have—“

“I can feed Momo,” Mercy said. “I can take him for a walk. But I want you here for a little while longer.”

Fareeha jumped. Mercy was using her tail to play with her.

“Just a little bit longer…?”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha ran through the station, trying to get to her desk.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Jesse said. “Not every day you’re late.”

“How late am I?” She gasped.

“Nearly an hour. To what lovely lady do we owe this pleasure to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for starters, you got yourself a hickey,” Jesse laughed, pointing at her neck.

“Shit!” Fareeha tried to fix her collar.

“Next, we got your hair,” Jesse said, “specifically, the ‘just fucked’ hairstyle. So, who’s the lady?”

“It’s…”

“Yes…?”

“We need to get to work,” Fareeha mumbled.

“Ah, must be a pretty thing then, eh?”

“Look, I’m already late. We’re supposed to be questioning our share of suspects, and we’ve already lost too much time.”

“Alright, I’ll drop it,” Jesse sighed. “We gotta grill four suspects, and the cyber-sleuths went through all their social media profiles, as well as their phones and flash drives they had on them. They’re positive that one of the four is the ringleader.”

“Jesse, already know that.”

“Just want to make sure you’re still on the same page. You’re the one who looks like they got their brains fucked out,” Jesse chuckled.

“How the hell can you tell?”

“Remember when I said you got ‘just fucked’ hair? It’s a right proper mess. Figured it must be good if you weren’t able to tame it. That, and I’m a detective.”

“Let’s just get this done with,” Fareeha sighed. “Are the suspects in the interview rooms?”

“They’ve been there an hour. Actually, you showing up late might help them loosen up a bit. Keep them waiting, make it easier for them to mess up.”

“As long as we don’t make it look like a case of suspect intimidation. Any lawyer worth their salt could spin that to neglect at best, or torture at worst.”

Fareeha gathered her notes and walked through the station, Jesse at her side.

“What’s life without a little risk?” He said. “Besides, we got four guys in four rooms, with no way to know what any of them are saying. It’s the Prisoner’s Dilemma, and we got the winning hand.”

They reached the four interview rooms. Officers and technicians were waiting for them, ready to observe from behind one-way glass in adjoining rooms.

“Sorry for the wait, y’all,” Jesse said. “We were getting our ducks in a row. Well, Ms. Amari, who’s first?”

“Well, one’s named Adam, so it seems fitting to have him go first,” she said. “We ready to record? Jesse, you want to be good or bad?”

“I’m not gonna harsh your buzz by making you bad,” he laughed. “You can be good.”

“Let’s go.”

Fareeha opened the door to the interview room. The room was an off-white color, with a steel table bolted in the middle of the room. Against one wall was a large pane of one-way glass where they would be recorded and observed by technicians or other detectives.

A tall man with a blonde beard sat at the steel table, handcuffed. He was a big man, but his shoulders were hunched over, like he was trying to fold in on himself. He was wringing his handcuffed hands.

He looked like a lackey, a man doing what he was told. He probably wasn’t even a true believer; he should be the first to break.

“How are you?” She asked. “Sorry it took so long. Can we get you anything? Water, snacks? Maybe undo those cuffs a bit?”

“Water, please,” Adam said. He even spoke soft, belying his size.

Fareeha ducked out of the room, but came back quickly with a small bottle of water. The police kept a stash of food and drink on hand for such an occasion. 

“Thanks,” Adam mumbled. He cracked the bottle open and sipped it.

“Then let’s get this started.” Each interview room had an audio recorder. It sat bolted to the table, fashioned after a tape recorder from the 1980’s. It had a big, clearly labeled recording light, so that the casual observer would know it’s working.  She pressed the recording button, and the red recording light lit up. “This is Detective Fareeha Amari and Detective Jesse McCree. Can you state your name for the record?”

“Adam Laski.”

“Thank you for being here, Mr. Laski. I’m sure you know the reason you’re here?”

“Y-you think I attacked the Omnics at the rally,” he said.

“No, we believe you orchestrated it,” Jesse said. “Son, we got you on tape. Dozens of eye-witnesses place you at the scene. You’ve got oil on your hands; blood too, where you hit a few humans who tried to protect the Omnics. You’re in on this, and you’re going—“

“Jesse, please,” Fareeha said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for my partner, he was at the attack and has very strong feelings about it.”

Adam kept his eyes glued to the table.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“I’m okay,” Adam mumbled. He wrung his hands, and never met her eyes.

“How about we start from the beginning?” Fareeha asked. “How did you make your way here? What drew you here?”

“I…the Omnics,” he mumbled. For such a big man, he sure liked to mumble a lot. “They want to hurt us, I’m sure of it.”

“So you hurt them first?” Jesse pressed. Fareeha placed a hand on his shoulder, just to visually show Adam that she was keeping the cowboy at bay.

“But they will,” Adam said. “They always do.”

“What do you mean, ‘they always do?’” She asked.

“In movies, in books, _everywhere_ ,” Adam said. “They always go bad. How can you not see it? We’re doing this to protect humanity.”

Fareeha thought he wouldn’t be a true believer, but he spoke with the conviction of one. It was at odds with his meek mannerisms.

“So you got a few of your friends together to what, save humanity?” Fareeha asked.

“They wanted to do it themselves,” Adam said. “They said I should come along. Help them out.”

“And you just think that beating some skulls is gonna be the way to save humanity?” Jesse snorted. “Boy, you’re a special kind of dumb.”

“But it’s true!” Adam yelled. It was so sudden, it made Fareeha jump. He rose his hands and pounded the table. “They’ll turn on us! I know they would!”

Adam was on his feet. Suddenly, he realized that he was standing, and sat down, ashamed of his outburst. Fareeha’s ears rung from the powerful hit the table took.

“I think we should take a step back,” she said. “It’s obvious that you’re passionate about this, and I don’t want to upset you. Would you like a breather? Some time to compose yourself?”

“Please,” Adam mumbled, the picture-perfect image of defeat.

“Do you need any more water?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“We’ll be back soon,” she said, turning off the recorder. She and Jesse left the room.

“Well, that’s a strange man,” Jesse said when he closed the door. “Big boy like him, I thought he’d have some more backbone to him.”

“Don’t tell me you were checking him out.”

“Please, we both know I’m the monogamous one of the team. ‘Sides, if Hanzo caught me giving the Eye, he’d really give it to me good.”

“What do you think of Adam?”

“Professionally? He’s certainly weird. Way too docile.”

“I agree,” she said. “Something’s off about him.”

“A weird suspect? Say it ain’t so!”

“Let’s let him calm down,” Fareeha sighed. “I don’t want him to snap at us anymore.”

“Got that right, sister.”

Fareeha could hear a muffled voice from the second interview room. To be heard through the thick walls, one would have to make a lot of racket.

“Who’s in there?”

“Mikel Humboldt,” Jesse said. “He’s been making noises since he got here.”

“Well, if he’s talking, let’s hear what he’s saying,” she said.

She nodded at the technicians, who went to the next observation room. Then she opened the door to the second interview room.

“—A violation of my rights!” The man inside yelled. Like Adam, he was handcuffed, but unlike Adam, he was handcuffed to the table. Also unlike Adam, he was of average build, with black hair. He would be imposing, but his eyes had dark bags under them. “I’m a sovereign citizen of the United States! I don’t recognize your legal authority!”

Fareeha wanted to roll her eyes; Mikel was a nut job.

“I hate to interrupt you—“

“You! I demand that you release me from these things!” Mikel spat.

“You’re being restrained because it’s procedure,” Jesse snapped. “And because you tried to assault a corrections officer.”

“He was infringing on my rights and liberties!”

“Look pal, you better—“

“Jesse, please,” Fareeha said, jumping in to play the Good Cop again, “we need to work with him, not against him.”

“Listen to you mistress, you fucking cuck.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but glare at Mikel.

_One of_ these _assholes_ , she thought.

“We need to start,” she said, forcing herself to be patient as she sat down. She started the recorder, and the red light lit up. “This is Detective—“

“My name is Mikel Humboldt, a sovereign citizen, and my rights are being violated!” Mikel yelled at the recorder, inches from the imbedded microphone.

Jesse grabbed him and hauled him back.

“Get your hands off me, you spineless lackey!” Mikel ranted.

“Sit down or we’ll slap you with obstruction of justice,” Jesse snarled.

“Justice? Ha! What would a cog of the machine know of justice?”

“This is Detectives Fareeha Amari and Jesse McCree,” Fareeha groaned. “Subject is hostile.”

“Ooh, ‘hostile,’ you’re scaring me,” Mikel mocked. “Go back to your masters and tell them they’re facing a free man here.”

“You won’t be free much longer,” Jesse said. “We got you on fifteen counts of aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, ten counts of attempted murder, three _actual_ counts of murder, and nearly two-dozen hate crimes. Oh yea, and a few hundred thousand dollars of property damage.”

“What’s a few hundred thousand dollars when you have the future of humanity at state? And you have to be alive to be the victim of a hate crime!” Mikel yelled. He smashed the table as hard as he could. It wasn’t the same as when Adam hit the table, but it still made Fareeha’s ears ring. “Those metal monsters are brainwashing us, hijacking our highest offices for their twisted means! They want to destroy us, and they have to be stopped!”

“I can’t stand this asshole anymore,” Jesse spat. “Let’s leave him stew.”

Fareeha shut off the recording and left the room.

“You face a free man here! Run back to your masters, you cucks! I don’t recognize your legal authority! I’m a sovereign citizen!”

Jesse slammed the door.

“God, what a fucking loon,” he hissed. “Where do they find these assholes?”

“Did any of that sound strange?” Fareeha asked.

“Sorry, I was doing my best not to ring his stringy neck.”

“Get in line,” she snorted. “But the way he talked, it was like he was reading from a script.”

“What do you mean?”

“How many times did he call you a ‘cuck?’”

“A few.”

“And how many times did he call himself a sovereign citizen?”

“’Bout three.”

“Most people describing themselves as ‘sovereign citizens’ don’t recognize United States _currency_ as legitimate,” she said. “But Mikel seemed to believe in it when you mentioned the property damage.”

“Hold up now, you think he’s just spouting hot wind?”

“I think that’s exactly it. No one outside of an internet troll uses ‘cuck’ so many times in their normal conversations.”

“Damn, that guy got so under my skin I barely noticed that.”

“I think that’s the point,” Fareeha said. “Jesse, how hard do you have to hit the table to be heard outside, or even in another room?”

“Don’t know. Can’t be that hard, those tables rattle. What are you playing at?”

“Both Adam and Mikel hit the tables as hard as they could,” she said. “Adam didn’t really have much of a reason to.”

“He thinks Omnics will destroy humanity.”

“So he raises his voice to pound the table? How quiet and docile was he when we talked to him?”

“Seemed a bit too calm for me,” Jesse said. “Wait. You think Adam isn’t really quiet?”

“And Mikel isn’t really a gung-ho hardass he makes himself to be,” she said. “You said this is the Prisoner’s Dilemma; I think they know they’re in the Dilemma too, and they’re trying to cheat.”

“The Dilemma only works if the prisoners are completely separated,” Jesse said, realization dawning on him. “But the way they’re wailing on the tables, they can hear each other across the rooms.”

“That’s exactly it.”

“Then why the act? Why pretend to be weak or badass?”

“We think we got their leader; what if we really did? What if they’re trying to cover for their leader, so he doesn’t get a serious charge? He could make bail and go back to orchestrating hate crimes.”

“Or the prosecutor could try to pin the crimes of an individual on a group, and we lose the court case because we don’t have enough evidence to back it,” Jesse said. “And he walks free because we lack the burden of proof. Damn, that’s good.”

“It’s the only way to win the Dilemma; you have to cheat,” Fareeha said. “And how do you beat a cheater? Cheat him back.”

“We give them a false-positive. Maybe beat a table two times?”

“I think it’s worth a try. What room is suspect number three in?”

“Room D, right over there.”

“That means Room F is open, and away from the others. Jesse, go in room F. After I talk to the suspect for a few minutes, pound on the table twice. Let’s see what happens.”

Fareeha walked to the third room, and opened the door. A dark-skinned man sat at the table, handcuffed, but not cuffed to the table. He was tall, but a wire of a man. He tried to grow a beard, but had a few too many patches for it to truly come in.

“Mr. McKinnitt? I’m Detective Amari,” she said. “Are you doing alright? Can we get you anything? Water, snacks, maybe loosen those handcuffs for you?”

“Could you undo these a bit? They’re really cutting into my hands.”

Fareeha pulled out the keys to the cuffs and loosened them. Some police officers really cranked them down, so when they loosened them, the suspect would think them good. She always found it a dirty trick.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. Reaching over the table, she started the big, showy recorder. “Detective Amari, interviewing Stephen McKinnitt. Mr. McKinnitt, you do know why you’re here, right?”

“Something about attacking Omnics,” he snorted. “Just like the tin cans to pretend themselves to be people.”

_So he’s playing the stoic badass,_ she thought. _I can work with that._

“Regardless of what you think of them, you’re facing a laundry list of charges,” she said. “If you ignore the hate crime, you’re looking at a few counts of murder.”

“You mean the humans who betrayed their species and were fighting for the Omnics,” he said.

“Even if they did ‘betray their species’ as you say, they’re still people.”

“They’re weak, easily brainwashed by a few pretty words the machines learned,” Stephen said.

She pulled out a pen and started writing nonsense down on a sheet of paper.

“That makes sense. I’m sure every single jury on the planet would see it that way. Don’t mind me, I’m just doing some cop-math to figure out how long you’ve got before they give you the needle.”

Two dull thuds resounded from behind the wall. It was Jesse, playing their false-positive. Stephen’s face drained of color.

“W-w-what was that?”

“Hmm?” Fareeha forced herself to look impassive. “Oh, I think that was Mikel going off again.”

“Mikel?”

“Yea, the loud guy, going on and on about how he’s a sovereign citizen?” She said.

Stephen was clearly shaken by the false-positive. Fareeha could practically see the gears spinning in his head, trying to figure out what it meant, both for their group, and for him. He was mentally backpedaling; all she had to do was hound him, get him to realize it would be better to confess and turn on his friends than go to jail.

“Anyways, he’s probably signing a confession,” she continued casually. “He might say ‘our laws’ don’t have any sway over him, but even he doesn’t want to get caught as being the murderer of innocent people”

Stephen stared at the table. He was starting to shake.

“What about you? Are you a badass murderer?”

“No!”

“But you were just saying how much of a badass you are. You said how they betrayed their species.”

“I-I didn’t mean that!”

“Now why should I believe you?”

“Because I only used a pipe,” Stephen said. He was nearly crying. “I just wanted to beat up some Omnics, I never wanted to kill someone. But Adam, he made it all seem so natural, so good to bring a gun and shoot someone.”

“Adam? The quiet one?”

“He’s not quiet, he just pretends to be, just like how Mikel pretends to be loud,” Stephen said. “Mikel isn’t, he just as scared as the rest of us. But Adam, he came up with a plan if we get captured. We’re all supposed to say that this is our idea. That way, you can’t prove who it is, and at worst we get a year or so because you don’t have the burden of proof. We only go away for aggravated assault, and since we have clean records, we can probably get it down even more.”

“This Adam sounds really smart.”

“He’s the leader, he really knows his shit. But to kill people, even on accident…?”

“He doesn’t seem like much of a leader if he tries to get you to be his fall guy,” Fareeha said. “He doesn’t sound like much of a leader if he gets people killed.”

Stephen started crying.

“Stephen, this isn’t a good day for any of us,” she said. “But you can help. Three people died because of the riot you started. You can give their family’s the justice they deserve. Confess, testify for us. Give us everything we need to know about Adam to put him away, so more people won’t have to die.”

Stephen nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Stephen.” Fareeha stood up. “We’ll be back with a confession.”

Ending the recording, she left the room. Jesse was waiting for her.

“Well, that worked better than planned.”

“Tell the truth, I didn’t think that two pounds would do anything,” Fareeha said. “But we found the weakest link, and we got him. Let’s get back to Mikel.”

“What about suspect number four?”

“I know how Mikel ticks now,” she said. “I can break him.”

She walked into Mikel’s room, where he was still yelling about his rights.

“Detective Fareeha Amari, starting the recording,” she said, pressing the recoding button.

“Come back for more, cuck?”

“Cut the shit, Mikel.”

“What?”

“I said, cut the shit,” she snapped. “We all know you’re not the hardass you pretend to be, Stephen told us everything.”

“W-what?”

“He told us how Adam came up with everything, and you’re just full of hot air.”

Mikel finally stopped talking. He went white.

“He’s signing a confession now. And he told us about your plan to communicate by pounding on the table. Pretty smart idea. Too bad you’re still going away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Stephen’s cutting a deal with us. You’re going away for a long time. Unless you can give us something worthwhile.”

Mikel was shaking. He played a good badass, but he had none of the mettle.

“We know Adam is the ringleader, and that he doesn’t care about you or your friends,” she said. “Sign a confession. Give us something to put on Adam so you can get a lighter sentence. Unless you like doing time in a maximum-security prison.”

“I’ll sign,” he squealed. “I just don’t want to go to prison.”

“You beat several Omnics with a bat. You got to do some time,” Fareeha said. “But if you cooperate, we’ll talk to the judge, cut a deal with you. Sounds good?”

Mikel nodded.

“Good. We’ll be back with a confession.”

Fareeha killed the recording and left the room.

“Well, boss, you’re on fire,” Jesse laughed. “Want to break the news to the head hancho?”

“I’d love to,” she grinned.

Fareeha and Jesse walked back into the first interview room. Adam had finished his bottle of water, and was sitting patiently. Jesse started the recording.

“Detectives Amari and McCree,” Fareeha said. “Well, Adam, I like your idea to pound on the table.”

Adam didn’t bat an eye.

“What?”

“Pounding on the table,” she said. “Talking through the rooms.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Come on, it’s the Prisoner’s Dilemma,” Jesse said. “You don’t know what the other is saying, so you feel that you can betray him. Only you found a way to talk; pounding on the table.”

“You pound on the table, you say that you haven’t talked yet,” Fareeha said. “Stephen told us.”

Adam’s face grew hard.

“See, he doesn’t like the idea of going to jail for something he doesn’t truly believe in,” Fareeha said. She didn’t know if Stephen did, she just said it to get under Adam’s skin. “So he told us what the deal was, how you planned to win. It’s a good plan. But we got Stephen, and with the confession that Stephen signed, we got Mikel. And because we got Mikel, we got you.”

Adam lunged across the table. Fareeha was barely able to get her hands up.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared. “You fucking traitor! You servant of fucking machines!”

He wrapped his massive hands around her throat, but before he could do so much as squeeze, Jesse was on him. He laid a heavy punch on Adam’s jaw. She brought her elbow up, breaking Adam’s nose and his grip. Blood squirted through the shattered cartilage.

Screaming in pain, Adam tried to lunge at her again. Fareeha grabbed his arm and twisted his wrist, dislocating the joint. Jesse grabbed a handful of Adam’s hair and smashed his head against the steel table. By then, police officers were running into the room to restrain Adam.

“You alright, Fareeha?” Jesse asked.

“Fine,” she said. “Just glad you got to him before he choked the shit out of me.”

“ _You’re_ glad?” He laughed. “Damn, I’m sure glad I was able to get to him before he did any serious damage. That’s one big boy; something tells me he got a heart as dark as sin. He’d try to snap your neck like it was a stalk of celery.”

Fareeha stopped.

_Heart as dark as sin. The blood of the sinner._

“Give me any bloody gauze of pads,” she said.

“Bloody gauze? Why?”

“We might be able to match some DNA with it.”

“Yea, good idea. We already got two confessions, but some DNA evidence couldn’t do us any harm.”

One officer had a first aid kit. He looked up from the restrained Adam.

“Detective, this good enough?” He asked, holding up a big three-by-three pad that was soaked with blood. “Noses are always bloody things to patch up.”

“That’ll do,” Fareeha said, her heart pounding. She grabbed some latex gloves from the first aid kit, along with two small vials. Taking the bloody pad, she squeezed a decent portion of the blood into one vial, then the rest in the second.

Carefully screwing the caps on, she slyly dropped the second into her pocket.

“Jesse, get this down to the CSIs,” she said. “I need to clean up.”

“You got it.”

Walking from the interview room, she went to a bathroom to clean herself up. Her hands were shaking again; now she was stealing evidence. What was her life coming to?

Back at her desk, she fell into her chair.

“Yea, nothing like a good old adrenaline come-down, eh darlin?” Jesse said, walking back from the CSI department. “Pretty exciting day, ain’t it?”

“Too much,” she mumbled. “I could do with some boring.”

“How about some boring old gossip?” Jesse said. “Tell me about this woman.”

“Ugh, Jesse, please, I don’t—“

Fareeha’s phone rang. It was her mother.

“Mom? You don’t call during the day. What’s the matter?”

_“Fareeha, oh, Fareeha, it’s…oh, just…”_

Her mother was crying, and crying hard.

“Mom? What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Adrenaline coursed through Fareeha’s veins. What was going on?

_“You must come, Fareeha. As quickly as you can,”_ her mother sobbed. _“And, and bring Mercy and Momo, please.”_

“Mother, what do you mean?” Fareeha demanded. “Has something happened?”

_“Oh, something_ has _happened, Fareeha.”_

“What? What happened?” She was livid, panic burning in her heart. “Did you fall? Did something go wrong?”

_“No, no, nothing like that,”_ Ana said. _“I’m getting married!”_

Fareeha’s mind decided that now was an excellent time to stop working.

“What?!”


	7. Chapter 7

Fareeha practically tore open door to her apartment. Mercy looked up from filling Momo’s food bowl. She still wore Fareeha’s old exercise cloths.

“What did you do to my mother?” She demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what,” Fareeha said. “I got a call from her at work. She said she’s getting married!”

“Oh! That’s so lovely!”

“What did you do to her?”

“I honestly don’t know, oh bearer mine. I only talked to Jack.”

Fareeha ground her teeth. She knew Mercy was behind this somehow.

“Well, get some real clothes on, my mom wants you there,” she said. “And wear a bra, dammit!”

“You don’t mean that,” Mercy yelled back.

Mercy went to the guest room to rummage around. Fareeha took a second to kneel down and pet Momo.

“What’s going on, guy?” She said. “It’s like since I summoned Mercy, things have been going crazy.”

Momo barked and tried to lick her.

“Not after you just ate, pal,” she laughed, gently holding him back. “Come on, mom asked for you, too.”

Mercy walked out of the guest room, wearing a skirt and dress shirt.

“Of. I had to pad this thing out just to get a good fit,” she pouted, tugging at the borrowed bra. “And cloths wise, you don’t have a lot to work with, master.”

“I’m not exactly a girly-girl,” Fareeha said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Mercy sat in the front of her car as they drove to the hospital. Fareeha wanted to be mad at her, but found it hard to be when Mercy took her hand. She realized she was blushing when she pulled into the lot.

Momo was lively, pulling at his leash when they walked into the hospital.

“Fareeha, I take it you heard the news?” Samir said from the front desk.

“Kind of hard to miss it,” she said. “Do we have to keep Momo outside?”

“Are you kidding? This wedding has everyone upbeat. I don’t mean to be crass or insensitive, but we’re here for people to check out, not to get married. My boss is letting everything slide.”

“Seriously?”

“He bought champagne for everyone here,” Samir laughed.

“Hear that, Momo? You get to walk around here,” Fareeha said. “But you can’t be the center of attention. Not today.”

“Head on in, everyone’s on the second-floor balcony.”

“Hold up! We’ll walk with you!”

“Jesse?”

Fareeha couldn’t believe it, but her partner was running in, with his boyfriend Hanzo right behind him.

“What are you doing here?” She said.

“Just comin’ to give my heartfelt congratulations to the blushing bride,” he smiled. He had taken time to freshen up, but just barely. He had trimmed his bearded, not going full shaven, but it was back to a five o’clock shadow instead of the rough thing he had before. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a casual, collard vest to go with a fresh dress shirt.

Despite a new shirt and vest, he still wore jeans and his cowboy hat and boots. Fareeha was just glad he didn’t wear a bolo tie.

“She was the First Deputy Superintendent for a good long spell,” Jesse said, “not to mention my mentor when I first joined. I owe her this.”

“Don’t remind me, she nearly adopted you when you when you were studying for detective,” Fareeha said.

“Well, is this the special lady who gave you that fantastic hairstyle?” Jesse said, seeing Mercy. He politely held out his hand. “Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree. I’m Fareeha’s partner at work.”

“Nice to meet you, Jesse. I’m Mercy.”

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty lady,” he smiled. “You treating our girl Fareeha right?”

“Only the best for her,” Mercy laughed.

“Jesse, lay off,” Fareeha said.

“Come on, you never let me see your girlfriends,” he said.

“For good reason,” Hanzo said. “She should install a revolving door; it would make things easier.”

“Hanzo, don’t you start now,” she snapped.

“Does it make it any less true?” He grinned. Like Jesse, Hanzo was dressed casual. Unlike Jesse, he put effort into his clothing choice. He wore dress pants, freshly iron and creased, a matching dress shirt and proper, non-collared vest, and what looked like a silk tie. He also took the time to trim his beard.

“Why is it always ‘beat up Fareeha’ day when we talk about relationships?” She grumbled.

“Aw, come on, it’s all in good fun,” Jesse smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “What’s the point of anything if you can’t make fun of it?”

“He has a point,” Mercy laughed.

“Come on, let’s just go,” she groaned. “And Hanzo, it is nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” he smiled. “And especially on a day like today. Although I bet you weren’t betting on your mother getting married when you woke up.”

“Does anyone?”

Fareeha took Momo’s leash and walked through the foyer. She jumped a little when Mercy slipped her arm into hers, but soon found it comforting. She couldn’t help but smile.

As they walked through the wing of the hospital, she could see that word of her mother’s marriage really had a profound impact. Everywhere she went, there were men and women, both residents and helpers, who were smiling wide. With this wing of the hospital, everyone was usually gloomy; she would say rightfully so.

But now? Now everyone resident had a spring in their step.

They took the elevator to the second floor, and Fareeha was shocked to see that there were dozens of people there. The balcony was full, and people were spilling out into the hallway.

“This is crazy,” she said.

“This is lovely!” Mercy said.

“Weddings always have a way of making people smile,” Hanzo laughed.

“Got that right,” Jesse said.

Momo barked happily. Hearing Momo, many of the residents turned to give him a little love and attention. Fareeha had to practically pull him along as they made their way to the balcony.

Out on the balcony, there was a little pathway towards the front. Her mother had a chair at the front of the balcony, wearing a lovely blue dress that Fareeha had bought her years ago, and she was crying with happiness. Jack sat next to her, wearing an old Army dress uniform.

“Oh, Fareeha!” She cried, wrapping Fareeha in a fierce hug. “You’re finally here!”

“Sorry, traffic was terrible,” she said. “The way things were, I should’ve flown! And whatever possessed you to marry again?”

“Not her, me,” Jack smiled. “We don’t have a lot of time left, so I figured why the hell should we wait?”

“Don’t be like that, you’ll never know when you’ll walk out of here,” Fareeha said. Then she remembered she still had that vial of blood from earlier that day.

She had two items; she was halfway there.

“Excuse me, sir,” Jesse said, taking a step forward, “but you…you wouldn’t happen to be Major General Jack Morrison, would you?”

“Actually, I would be.”

“Sir, it’s an honor to meet you,” Jesse said. Fareeha and Hanzo both stared at Jesse as he snapped a crisp salute. “Corporal Jesse McCree, US Army Rangers, retired.”

Fareeha knew Jesse’s record; she knew about his time in the Army, but he never talked about it. Never in the seven years of them being partners.

“Ease up there, Corporal, this isn’t a parade ground,” Jack laughed, lazily returning the salute.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I feel it to be necessary,” he said. “To be frank, sir, I feel that I owe you my life.”

“You’re a little young for me to pull your ass out of fire.”

“Literally, sir, but not metaphorically.”

“Wait, you said McCree, right?” Jack said. “Now I remember, you’re the boy from the Reformation Program, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir, I am,” Jesse smiled.

“I thought you looked familiar,” Jack laughed. “Damn, doesn’t this just beat all?”

“I’m sorry, but Reformation Program?” Fareeha asked. “Hanzo, what isn’t he telling us?”

“Jesse doesn’t like talking about his past,” Hanzo said. “Even with me.”

“It wasn’t my finest time,” Jesse said. It was obvious that even mentioning it put him on edge. Sensing his anxiety, Momo nuzzled his leg. “Used…I used to be in a gang.”

“What?” Hanzo laughed. “Justice loving Jesse McCree, in a gang?”

“It’s true,” he said. “The Deadlock Gang.”

“That can’t be right,” Fareeha said. “You were a member of the Deadlock Gang? Drug runners, gun smugglers, hitmen for hire, the last great mafioso in the United States? _That_ Deadlock Gang?”

“It is,” Ana said. “He turned himself in, worked with me directly. I’m so glad things have gotten better for you, Jesse.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, ma’am,” he said. “I was young and stupid and trying to prove something. Didn’t last too long, thank the Lord.”

“I remember those days,” Ana said. “It was a lot of long nights and far too much work. Poor Fareeha was a latchkey kid for nearly a year.”

“Mom…”

“Anywho, Major General Morrison thought of giving some of us a second chance,” Jesse said. “It was his great Reformation Program. Throw us into the armed forces, straighten us out. And it worked, too.”

“Please, right now, it’s just Jack. And you were the poster child of the Program, Jesse. Thank you for your service, and for being the inspiration for the Program.”

“It’s an honor sir. I wake up every day knowing I have a second chance because of you.”

Jesse saluted, but Jack offered him his hand. Jesse hesitated, but Hanzo gently nudged him in the ribs. Jesse shook Jack’s hand; it looked like he was tearing up.

“You did good, kid,” Jack smiled. “You did good.”

“T-thank you.”

“And I owe an apology to Fareeha,” Jack said, turning to her. “I wanted to talk to you first about this, but I just didn’t feel that I had the time.”

“What do you mean?” Fareeha asked.

“Call me old fashioned, but I feel that I should’ve talked to you about marrying your mother before I actually proposed,” he said. “We’ve been damn near inseparable; I wanted to get your blessing first, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Can you forgive me?”

“I…this is a lot,” Fareeha said. “It’s moving too fast; I’ll need time to come to terms with this. But Jack, I saw how happy you made my mother. I’ve never seen her so…so…so alive. You don’t need my permission to marry her.”

Ana cried even more.

“Fareeha, this means more than the world to me,” she said.

“I love you too, mom.”

“Looks like the Imam is here,” Jack said, nodding over his shoulder.

Fareeha turned, but saw Jack trading a look with Mercy. She could see their eyes lock; Jack seemed to nod knowingly to Mercy, and she smiled back. She _knew_ that Mercy had to be behind this!

An Imam walked through the crowd.

“This has to be the strangest wedding I’ve been asked to preside over,” he chuckled. “I was just called an hour ago.”

“Same her,” Fareeha laughed.

“Thank you for coming so fast,” Ana said. “Neither of us could wait.”

“Anything for the two who have found love,” the Imam smiled.

“We don’t mean to be insulting here,” Jack said, “but we don’t want to get tangled up with religious ceremonies, either for us or anyone who’s joining. And from the looks of it, it’s damn near everyone.”

“I understand,” the Imam said. “It’ll be the short, short version. But not the short, short, _short_ version; we’ll need a shotgun for that.”

Smiling, the Imam turned to the gathered crowd.

“It always warms my heart to see two adults who want to spend the rest of their days together,” he said. “Although, as the groom is fond of saying, that will happen sooner rather than later. So, beloved, we are gathered to witness a union of two hearts.

“Jack Morrison, do you take Ana Amari to be your loving wife?”

“I do.”

“And Ana Amari, do you take Jack Morrison to be your loving husband?”

“I do.”

“Then with the power invested in me, by both the state and Allah the highest, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

The gathered assembly cheered as Fareeha watched her mother kiss her new husband. She looked over to see Jesse wrap his arm around Hanzo, who was always quiet and reserved. Both of them were smiling, but Jesse seemed to be smiling at her.

It was then that Fareeha realized that she had taken Mercy’s hand. Blushing, she looked away.

“Now let’s celebrate like we’re all young again,” the Imam said, getting a loud rouse from the crowd. Jack stood up, cane in one hand, while holding his other hand out for her mother. Laughing, Ana took his hand and began walking back inside.

“Are you happy, oh bearer mine?” Mercy asked, resting her head on her shoulder.

“I…Allah, I’m more than happy,” she said. “This just doesn’t seem real.”

“But it is,” Mercy said. “Just be here, happy for your mother and her happiness.”

“I’m more than happy for her,” Fareeha said. “I’m hopeful.”

She could practically feel Mercy tense up.

“You don’t mean—“

“I do,” she said. “I found the second item: blood of the sinner. It’s in my pocket. You’ve done things for me that I never knew I wanted. I, I even think I really love you. But I love my mother more, and I want her to be happy for a much longer time.”

“I see,” Mercy said.

“I guess I’ll be with you forever,” Fareeha laughed. “I mean, you’ll have my soul.”

Mercy didn’t say anything. They walked back into the hospital with Momo, Jesse and Hanzo. As soon as they were in, Mercy broke away, moving through the crowd like she had a purpose.

“Don’t tell me you drove your new girl away,” Jesse said.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Oh good. She’s a good fit for you. Don’t know where you found her, but you need to hold onto a girl like that.”

“Thanks, Jesse.”

 

* * *

 

Mercy walked through the crowd, looking for Jack. She didn’t want to bother him, especially on such a wonderful day, but it was clear that Fareeha wouldn’t stop until she had all the items, and she would force her to break her Task.

The funny thing was, she wanted Fareeha, but she never wanted her soul.

Jack and Ana were sitting at a nearby table, accepting congratulations from friends and fellow residences. Jack looked up, seeing her approach.

“I was hoping to talk to you,” he said.

“And I you,” Mercy replied. “Do you think I could pull you from your bride and talk to you for a moment?”

Nodding, Jack excused himself, gathered up his cane, and pulled himself to his feet to get away from the crowd.

“What can I do for you?”

“Hopefully everything,” Mercy said. “I told you that Fareeha sees me as a daemon, no?”

“You mentioned something like that. Why does she see you that way?”

“Because of what she wants me to do,” Mercy said. “She doesn’t know that what she wants isn’t what she really wants.”

“Run that by me again?”

“She wishes for something, and the terrible thing is that she just might get that. Does that make sense?”

“I think I see where you’re coming from, but can’t you tell me what it is?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. There are rules that I have to follow while I am here. She wants something, and she wants it so bad that she doesn’t know how bad it would be for her.”

“That makes a bit more sense,” Jack said, “but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything,” she said. “I want to help her, but not the way she wants. I have a plan to help save her, but I will need your help.”

“You want my help?” Jack laughed. “An old man at death’s door?”

“It’s not what you can do for me when you’re at Death’s door, but what you can do once you’ve passed through it.”

Jack’s gaze grew hard.

“I don’t even know if what you’re saying is possible.”

“It is,” Mercy said.

“You said there are rules that you have to follow. Is this playing by the rules?”

“It is,” Mercy said. “In a way.”

“Ah, you’re playing by the letter of the law, not the spirit.”

“That’s right,” she smiled. “I was hoping you could help me with it.”

“What’s at stake?”

“Not just Fareeha, but Ana as well.”

“I’d go skydiving without a chute buck naked if it means doing it for Ana. What do you need?”

“You’re a Good Man, Jack. A rare, Good Man. I just need you to continue to be a Good Man. Here is what might happen, and here’s what we’ll do…”

Mercy leaned over, and whispered into his ear.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo watched ‘Mercy’ move through the crowd. She had talked to Morrison for a good five minutes, and Morrison had seemed strangely quiet; his face grew hard and chiseled, but he accepted everything with grace. When she was done talking, she began moving back to find Fareeha. Hanzo made his move, moving through the crowd to walk abreast with her.

“You seem to take a liking to people,” he said.

“Oh! You startled me,” Mercy said. “I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“It is fine,” Hanzo said. “I was just wanting to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About you.”

“I see I’m quite popular,” Mercy laughed. “What do you want to know about me?”

“What is your name?”

“I told you: Mercy.”

Hanzo glared at her, but the strange woman held her ground.

“What do you do?”

“Mercy.”

“Do not play games with me.”

“I’m not. I’m the most honest person you would ever find,” she said. “My name is Mercy, and mercy is what I do.”

“Forgive me for not believing you,” Hanzo said, “but I find it hard to trust an Oni who calls herself ‘Mercy.’”

“An Oni, hmm?” Mercy smiled. “There’s not much difference between Onis and spirits. The only difference being where one stands. What do you see when you see me?”

“I see a woman. You may not have fangs, but you have skin so white it is nearly blue, with light purple hair and small horns growing from her head,” he said. “Now tell me: what are you, and what are your intentions?”

“Well, if it makes any difference, I’m not an Oni,” Mercy said. “I’m closer to an angel than anything else.”

“A likely story.”

“Like I said, you will not find anyone more honest than I,” she smiled. “What else do you want to know?”

“What are your intentions with Fareeha?”

“You’re very concerned about her.”

“Of course I am,” Hanzo said. “She is the most important woman in Jesse’s life. He loves her more than she knows; she’s special to him. That makes her special to me. That makes me question strange, blue-skinned women she brings along to her mother’s wedding.”

“To be fair, it was a sudden marriage,” Mercy said. “But I’m here because of Fareeha.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wants me for something, and I’m here to try and give her the mercy she deserves, instead of the mercy she wants.”

“’You’re here for something?’ That is awfully vague.”

“Sadly, that is all I can say,” Mercy said. “Everyone has their own mercy, and they alone are privy to that mercy.”

“You are not making things easy.”

“Things rarely are.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“You know too well, do you not?” She smiled.

“More than you know.”

“Oh, I know quite a bit,” she said.

“No, you do not.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, taking a step towards Hanzo. “I know how conflicted you are. How torn up inside you are. How you fight between the feelings you have, and the duty you are beholden to.”

Hanzo tried not to react, but he found it hard not to.

“You know _nothing,_ Oni,” he spat.

“But I do,” Mercy smiled sadly. “I deliver mercy; it’s what I do. I can’t perform my Task if I don’t know what a person needs, or what drives them to this mercy. It’s just how things work.

“Everyone needs mercy, Hanzo. Even you, who doesn’t look like you need anything.”

Hanzo wanted to yell at her, but he kept his peace. It was the first lesson that his father taught him: a Shimada must never let his emotions rule him.

“But I can see it in you,” Mercy said. “Love, fighting with your honor, with what you see as your destiny, what you were born for. You feel that you must be the man your father wanted, the man your family needs, don’t you? That’s why you ran away; that’s why you came to America, to find the peace between your two desires.”

He held his tongue, but Hanzo could feel the color drain from his face.

“H-how…”

“I told you, I’m Mercy,” the Oni smiled. “You’re conflicted, in need of me. You love another man, but that love makes you feel that you’ve failed your family. I can’t tell you what to do, but I can still give you the mercy that you need.

“You need to ask yourself what you love more: Jesse, or your family. You can’t run away from the decision forever; you must make a choice. But when you’re thinking of which to choose, don’t think about what you would be able to live with. Instead, ask yourself what you could not live _without_. Once you find out what that is, the rest is noise.”

Mercy smiled. Her skin seemed to brighten, and her horns suddenly vanished.

“Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, “yes, it does.”

“Good. It is not an easy path you have in front of you, but the paths aren’t supposed to be easy. They’re supposed to challenge you, to change you. That’s the joy of free will. Take it from someone who wasn’t supposed to have it.”

 

* * *

 

Ana sighed, leaning against the chair. At long last, she had shaken everyone’s hands, accepted their gratitude. Jack still had a few of the old veterans to talk with, and they always took their time.

“Tired?” Fareeha asked, sitting down next to her.

“Very,” she said. “This day made me feel young again. So young, and hopelessly in love. Allah, Fareeha, I just married a man I’ve only known for a week! That’s something that only the young are supposed to do.”

“And here you are,” Fareeha smiled.

“And here I am,” she laughed. “Oh Allah, I should have met that man twenty years ago.”

“Can I get you anything? Water, hors d'oeuvres…?”

“Champagne,” Ana said.

“You’re a bad influence on me, mom.”

“Me, the bad influence? Oh please, that was a lost battle. I’ve seen the girls you brought home.”

“Mom!”

Ana couldn’t help but laugh. It made Fareeha blush.

“Fareeha, there’s something you have to know,” Ana said. “I…when you talked to me last, when I was going through dialysis, I wanted to tell you that was the last time I wanted dialysis.”

Fareeha stared at her mother, the color draining from her face.

“But, but you can’t.”

“I can. We both know what this wing of the hospital is for. I was going through it as a formality; on that one-in-a-thousand chance that I get better, but I’ve no delusions.” She turned to her daughter. “It’s draining, Fareeha. I try to act like it isn’t, but it’s harder and harder every time. I’ve just had enough of it. I didn’t want to upset you, but I was at the end of my rope. But I had upset you. I couldn’t tell you after upsetting you so much. And then I met that man.”

She looked at Jack. He was still talking to the veterans.

“I met him, and I suddenly want to go through that hell every single day, just so I can be with him.”

“So you’ll still go to your dialysis?” Fareeha pressed.

“Fareeha, you’re missing the point,” Ana smiled. “I will, but only as long as Jack is there. You’re my daughter, the one best thing I added to this world, and I love you more than life itself, but the time has come to just let go. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you know how upset you get when I talk this way.”

“Then why tell me now?”

“Because if I don’t, I might never tell you. And we both know this is something that can’t be faced alone. Fareeha, just because it is the end doesn’t mean that it’s the end of everything. You found a great, beautiful woman; you need to be happy with that, and know that no matter where I’ll be, I’ll be happy with Jack.”

Fareeha dropped her hand to her pocket, feeling the vial of blood, she hid.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’m sure you’ll be getting better, along with Jack.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha unlocked her apartment. Momo immediately went for his doggie bed.

“Yea, I feel the same way,” she sighed. She was so tired; between the big interrogation and her mother’s surprise wedding, she was spent.

She reached under her shirt, undid her bra and pulled it off. She took a very full breath of air, just for the sake of getting a full breath.

“Oh, is master feeling frisky?” Mercy laughed.

“’Master’ is feeling dead tired,” she groaned, falling onto her sofa.

“I’m right there with you,” Mercy said. “This padded bra wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.”

“I’m just glad you wore one.”

“If it makes you happy, oh bearer mine.”

Mercy sat down next to her. Fareeha pulled her close, resting her head in her lap.

“Did you have a good time?” Mercy asked.

“Actually, I did,” Fareeha said. “This entire thing was so last minute it was shocking, and I don’t want to give Jack my ‘blessing,’ but it’s hard not to. I see her smiling, I see her so happy, and I…and I just…”

“Yes?”

“I just can’t wait to see her smile like that more,” Fareeha said.  “I can’t wait to get those two other items, so I can just get this on with. I want to see her happy like this, for a much longer time.”

“Going through with our deal won’t help with that,” Mercy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean it will be what you expect. You humans have a wonderful saying: the grass in always greener on the other side.”

“Don’t get philosophical with me,” Fareeha said. “Please, I’m too tired.”

“As you wish, master.”

Fareeha needed to say something.

 _Don’t ask her,_ she told herself. _Say anything but that._

“Did you have a good time?”

“I did,” Mercy smiled. “Weddings are always such a beautiful thing. I could see Love’s work, and it is a beauty to behold.”

“You saw Love? You mean Cupid is real?”

“As real as Mercy,” Mercy smiled. “Love works in strange ways; I believe the phrase is ‘plays the long game.’ They work very carefully, very gently. It’s difficult, often impossible, to see marks of their work. But when it comes together, it is truly wondrous.”

Seeing Mercy smile filled her with giddiness and light.

“Then I’m glad I brought you.”

“I’m glad you did as well,” Mercy laughed. “The hospital wants to hire me.”

“Hire you? As in, a job hire?”

“That’s what Samir said,” Mercy smiled. “He told me one of their caregivers was leaving, and they had an open spot. Seeing how good I was with the residents, he asked if I wanted to try the position out.”

“A daemon, getting a job? What next, the Devil becomes a part-timer?” Fareeha laughed.

“One never knows,” Mercy smiled. “Although I’d need to leave the apartment.”

“Will you make any deals with the residents?”

“Oh please,” Mercy chided, “I’m Mercy, not Mephistopheles! No, I plan on performing my Task. That is all, oh bearer mine.”

“If you’re just helping out, or helping everyone find mercy, I guess it isn’t that bad.”

“Could I leave the apartment?”

“Only if you don’t mind public transit. I can’t drive you.”

“That’s fine,” Mercy smiled.

“Ugh. That means I’ll have to leave Momo at doggy day care again.”

“I wish I could take him with me. But thank you, oh bearer mine. I like spending time there, helping out.”

“You do?”

“It’s helping me perform my Task. It’s a joy to perform it.”

“Then if you’re happy, I’m happy as well,” Fareeha said.

She paused. She was trying to sell her soul to her. But at the same time, Mercy was more than that.

_You shouldn’t ask her for that. You really shouldn’t._

“Mercy?”

“Yes, master?”

_Don’t. Say. It._

“Can…can you hold me…? I’m feeling—oh Allah, I don’t know what I’m feeling. But I feel like I’d like to be held.”

Mercy laid down next to her, and wrapped her arms around her.

It felt warm and safe. Fareeha wondered if this was what it would be like once she sold her soul. If it was, she could live with that.


	8. Chapter 8

Fareeha stood in the interview room’s observation room, behind the one-way glass. Inside was the freshly patched-up Adam Laski, talking to his lawyer. Or rather, the lawyer was talking at him; Adam hadn’t said a word since the lawyer came in. While the interview room was wired for sound, it was turned off so they could observe their lawful confidentiality. But she still watched anyways.

The door opened, and Jesse walked in. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and he held a tall cup of coffee.

“Long night?” She asked.

“Longest I’ve had in a while,” he said before dumping six sugar packets and four creamers into the tall cup.

“Tall coffee, plenty of crème and even more sugar? That must mean something happened.”

“You bet it did,” Jesse said. “Hanzo said he needed time off.”

“’Time off?’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, and tell the truth, I’m not sure he does, either,” Jesse said. “He went to talk to Mercy, and when he came back, he was acting strange. Jittery, hemming-and-hawing, that sorta thing. Said he had to deal with things, and he wasn’t sure if he was coming back.”

Again with Mercy. First Jack, then Hanzo. Where would it end?

“He was just ‘dealing with issues?’”

“That’s what he said,” Jesse replied, draining nearly half the cup in one go. “So, I’ve been worrying myself sick, not sleeping a damn wink.”

“I hope things work out.” Fareeha made a mental note to talk to Mercy when she got back.

“Thanks,” he said. He nodded towards the one-way mirror. “Where we sitting?”

“He asked for his phone call. Called some pay-per-month phone, clearly a burner. He’s talking to his lawyer now, no doubt trying to find a way off these charges.”

“He lawyered up fast.”

“It’s a court-appointed lawyer,” she said. “Even that he refused.”

“He refused a lawyer?”

“Yes, but eventually he just gave in, probably to get us to stop bitching. I don’t think he’s said a word; he’s just sat there, like he’s waiting for something.”

“Waiting for what? We got two confessions, recordings of him committing the crimes, and thanks to you, DNA evidence to show that he was there,” Jesse said. “The only thing he can do is make a plea deal. Is that what they’re doing?”

“I have no idea.”

From inside the room, the lawyer pressed the intercom button.

“We’re ready to talk.”

“You ready for this?” Fareeha asked.

“Not really, but I can wing it,” Jesse said, draining the coffee. “Let’s do this.”

The technicians signaled them, telling them the cameras were rolling. Fareeha handed Jesse a copy of their case files, and they walked from the observation room to the interview room. Adam sat in his chair, not moving a muscle. His lawyer seemed stressed; Fareeha felt terrible for the lawyer.

He was a court-appointed lawyer; overworked and probably underpaid. And he was given the short straw to defend a man who orchestrated a hate-crime and multiple murders.

“Detectives Fareeha Amari and Jesse McCree, interviewing Adam Laski and his court-appointed lawyer,” she said, turning on the recorder. “Have you had enough time to talk to your client?”

“My client wishes to remain silent,” the lawyer said. “But he’s also open to the idea of making a deal.”

“Is he now?” Jesse asked.

“He hasn’t said ‘no’ to me,” the lawyer said. “And, as his attorney, it is in his best interest to do so.”

“Well, let’s get this ride going,” Jesse said, opening the case file for dramatic effect. “It ain’t looking good for your client, but you probably knew that. You’re looking at a few cases of premeditated murder, in the first degree I might add, multiple counts of assault with a deadly weapon, two second-degree murders, and more hate crimes than you can shake a stick at. What does your client have to say?”

“Again, my client wishes to remain silent,” the lawyer said, “but as his legal counsel, I’m saying that he is open to the possibility to talk; divulge information regarding to more of his colleagues. How they talked, planned, gathered supplies and travelled to the protest.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Fareeha said. “We know your client is the mastermind; we have multiple confessions, each detailing how your client gathered the people necessary. Each was made independently of each other, and they have the same details. Why should we make a deal if we already caught the ringleader?”

“I think we both know that this was not every single one of the perpetrators,” the lawyer said. “There are others out there. My client is open to the possibility of—“

“What time is it?” Adam asked.

It was the first time that Adam spoke. Fareeha gave him a steely glare; what was he up to?

“Say that again?” McCree asked.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Well, I’d say it’s about…” he consulted his watch, “ten to ten.”

Adam grunted.

“Why? You got a hot date in the cell block?”

“Detective, you shouldn’t harass my client.”

Fareeha also kicked Jesse under the table.

“Sorry, you’re right,” Jesse said. “My apologies. I get a bit insensitive when I’m worn out.”

“As long as you don’t make a habit of it,” the lawyer said. “Anyways, as I was saying—“

There was a small tremor in the building, like someone was playing dubstep with the bass cranked to max, just as it hit the drop.

Adam smiled.

“The hell was that?” Jesse said.

“There was a tremor,” Fareeha said, talking to the record. “It felt small.”

“That’s what I was waiting for,” Adam said.

“As your lawyer, I would suggest you remain quiet.”

“I won’t remain quiet, not while the tin cans are out there, plotting our downfall.”

“Please,” the lawyer said, “stop talking.”

Fareeha and Jesse’s phone squawked. It was an emergency police alert.

“We tried to be restrained,” Adam said, ignoring his lawyer’s gasping and begging. “But you forced our hands. As long as the Omnics are allowed to live, they will turn on us.”

“Stop talking!”

“And we will be there to stop them!”

Fareeha’s blood ran cold. There was a bombing.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jesse demanded.

“If we must spill human blood to save the race, then so be it,” Adam said. “We will never stop fighting. Capture me, arrest me, throw me in jail, we will never stop!”

“Stop! Talking!”

“You fucking bastard,” Jesse yelled. “You blew up a pedestrian mall!”

“One run by Omnics, one frequented by them.”

“You sick fuck--!”

Fareeha grabbed Jesse and dragged him towards the door, before he launched himself at Adam.

“We will always fight!” Adam yelled. “We will never stop!”

“You fucking terrorist, there were children there!”

“Jesse, we need to leave,” Fareeha grunted. She was strong, but so was Jesse. And he was struggling. Fortunately, the door opened, and more officers ran in to help her.

“There will never be a shortage of patriots!” Adam laughed.

 

* * *

 

Jesse was quiet the entire ride to the crime scene. He was quiet, and he was serious. It was a rare thing that made Jesse want to lose his temper; in all their years of being partners, Fareeha had only seen him truly mad twice. The first was a bar brawl where a drunkard kept calling him gay slurs for the entire night; Jesse ended up put him in traction.

The second was when they had caught a serial rapist. Fareeha had to remove him from the scene to keep him from doing something rash.

But now, he just stood at the crime scene, staring at the death and destruction.

The pedestrian mall was nearly fifteen yards across, and ran for nearly a quarter mile, weaving through blocks and busy intersections. Shops and stalls of all kinds lined the walkway.  The bomb might have been small, but it was powerful; someone knew what they were doing. It was placed near a string of Omnic-owned shops, destroying not only the fronts of the buildings, but also a decent portion of the interiors.

It was also placed next to an Omnic-owned café. During the summer time, it was frequented by summer schools.

Fareeha knelt by the café, her face hard. On the ground was the tattered remains of a pink princess backpack.

“Those fuckers,” Jesse spat. “Those goddamn fuckers.”

“Jesse, please.”

“Blowing up a bomb in a crowded mall? Domestic terrorism? That’s just asking to get fucked. We got them,” he seethed. “We already got Homeland and the FBI here, they’ll hunt ‘em down to the ends of the Earth.”

 “Jesse, we’ll find them.”

“No one’s gonna help them,” Jesse said. He was shaking. “We’ll hang ‘em high, let everyone know this is what happens when you fuck with something you shouldn’t.”

“Jesse!” Fareeha grabbed him by the shoulders. “We’ll find them. We got CSIs from all over combing this place, and the FBI is here in force. We’ll find them, and we’ll bring them in. The right way.”

Rage was in Jesse’s eyes, but it seemed to be crumbling in front of her eyes. It gave way to fear and sadness.

“I…I did something like this,” he mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“The Deadlock Gang,” he said. “Oh God, I wish it never happened…we knocked off a military convoy, back when the Omnics first became sentient, back during the Troubles. Someone wanted some explosives, so we gave it to ‘em. They were one of those Humans-First assholes, but we didn’t care, they paid well.

“The bomb went off early. Misfire or something. It took out a street. Buses, cars and pedestrians. There were kids there, too.”

Jesse never talked about his past.

“Jesse, you didn’t…you didn’t set the bomb up, did you?” She asked.

“No, I wasn’t even there at the handoff,” he cried. “But I did it. I stole the bomb, and because of me, all those people died. I…I turned myself in after that. Worked with your mother to put the Deadlock Gang away.”

“You turned state’s witness?”

“It was the only thing I could do,” he said. Jesse was crying freely now. “I turned witness, put the Gang away, and Morrison gave me a second chance. Dammit, I should never have touched that thing. I should never have joined.”

Fareeha wrapped him in a fierce hug just as he broke down. She held him as he cried, doing her best to not cry herself. But with the carnage that surrounded them, it was impossible not to.

She blinked away a tear, and saw a piece of debris ten feet away. It was the remains of a sign, and under it there was a severed finger. It had a pacifier dangling on it; she couldn’t tell if it was for a boy or girl, but it was a baby’s finger.

Then she remembered Mercy’s list.

_Tears of the sinless, blood of the sinner, bones of an infant, and the living death._

She couldn’t take that. It needed to be identified, given to the family for a proper burial. But her mother was dying.

“T-this better not make you straight,” she said, trying to get her mind off the finger.

Jesse laughed, breaking the hug.

“Don’t need to worry about that,” he said, drying his eyes. “God, I try not to think about those bad old days, but it’s something I just can’t get away from.”

“I don’t think you should forget those days,” Fareeha said. “You’re you because of your choices.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes drifting back to the severed finger. She should tell Jesse about it, get it taken away to be identified. “But you worked with my mom?”

“I did,” he said. “I happened to be passing through when…when the bomb went off. I turned myself in, and your mom was the lead detective on the case. I was ready to do time, but then Morrison came up with the Reformation Program, and he scooped me up, made me the poster boy. When my stint was done, she helped me study up to join the force.”

“Is that why she nearly adopted you?”

“Guess she saw something in me.”

Why wasn’t she saying something?

“I, I need to leave this place,” Jesse said. “I need to clear my head.”

“Just give me a second,” Fareeha said, walking to the severed finger.

She shouldn’t be doing this. But the baby was dead, and her mother wasn’t. She needed this to save her.

Being a detective gave her a mini-utility belt. Cuffs, her badge, zip-ties and latex gloves were just a few of the things that she had to carry with he, to say nothing of her gun and ammo. Pulling a glove out, she quickly wrapped the finger up and pocketed it.

She jogged after Jesse, trying not to hate herself.

“You know what we need?” Jesse said. “We need to go to a cop bar and help get this all behind us.”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the best way to help put something like this behind you?” The cowboy said. “We need to get really, really drunk and talk about it.”

“You’re just making that up.”

“Wish I was. We did that plenty of times in the Rangers, when we were back State-side.”

If there was one thing that Fareeha needed, it was a fucking drink or ten.

 

* * *

 

Momo had his head resting on Mercy’s leg as she sat on the sofa. He snorted, bored and anxious.

“I know boy,” she said. “Waiting for Fareeha is never fun. I can’t imagine how it was before me.”

There was a knock at the door, and Momo was the first to react to it. He ran off, barking. He could smell Fareeha on the other side.

Mercy got up and opened the door.

“This is a surprise.”

“Sorry, we needed to drink,” Jesse slurred. He was hammered, and was carrying Fareeha; one of her arms was draped over his shoulder. Both of them were incredibly drunk, but Fareeha had clearly blacked out.

“How _many_ drinks?” Mercy asked, helping Jesse in the apartment. Fareeha was simple dead weight.

“Can’t tell a lie, I lost track ‘round th’ fourth bomb shot,” Jesse slurred. They set Fareeha down on the sofa, and Jesse collapsed next to her. Mercy went to get some water. “Don’t worry, we took an Uber.”

“I don’t know what an Uber is, but if you weren’t driving, that’s the best,” Mercy said, walking to the kitchen.

“I know that dress, don’t I?” Jesse asked, squinting at her.

“What do you mean?” Mercy asked, with a glass of water for both Fareeha and Jesse.

“That dress,” he said. “It looks like something Fareeha wore way back when. Are you stealing her clothes already?”

“I don’ have much of a choice,” Mercy smiled. “She’s my master. I can only use what she lets me use.”

“Oh,” Jesse said, blushing heavily. “I didn’t mean to pry…uh, shit.”

“It’s fine, Jesse,” Mercy smiled. “I’m glad we can help her out. Can I get you anything?”

“Just some more water,” Jesse said.

“We have plenty of that,” she said, walking back. She handed Jesse a glass of water.

“What did you say to Hanzo?” He asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You talked to Hanzo, during th’ wedding. He came back, acting strange. Then he said he needed time. Wha’d ya say to him?”

“Only what he needed to hear,” Mercy said.

Jesse looked at her. If he was sober, it would be a stink eye. But with him swimming in alcohol, his head only lolled.

“That’s not a very good answer.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s the only one I can give,” she said. “What’s between me and Hanzo is his business, his own mercy. You’ll have to respect that.”

“Well, I can’t even do that,” Jesse said. “He took off somewhere.”

“I hope he comes back.”

“ _You_ hope?” Jesse laughed. He finished his water and pulled himself up. “I gotta get going.”

“You can’t leave like that.”

“Is k, I got an Uber lined up,” he mumbled, stumbling for the door.

“Wait,” Mercy said. She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for taking care of Fareeha.”

“Don’t do that,” he slurred, blushing heavily.

“Don’t do what?”

“Thank me like that. And kiss me. You’re so adorable it just might turn me straight. And where’ll that leave poor Hanzo?”

“Hopefully with an easier choice to make,” she laughed. “Safe travels.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha’s phone rang. The screen lit up her darkened bedroom; it was past one in the morning. Fareeha had to reach over not only Momo, but Mercy as well.

“This is Amari,” she groaned.

“Detective, you’re needed at the station,” the dispatch agent said. “The FBI has a lead on the terrorist’s base of operations. They’re running a raid as we speak. They want you to assist with clean up.”

“They found them already?”

“They’re the FBI. They work fast.”

“But two days?” Fareeha shook her head, trying to wake herself. “I’ll be there.”

She killed the phone and tried to pull herself from the tangle of limbs. Momo huffed, but helped roll away a little.

“Don’t be late, oh bearer mine,” Mercy whispered, still mostly asleep. “I like curling up with you.”

“You’ll have plenty of time for that later,” she mumbled.

_Once I finally sell you my soul._


	9. Chapter 9

“Goddamn FBI,” Jesse chuckled. Both of their desks were filled with papers. “We got evidence coming out the wazoo.”

“That happens when you raid a safe house,” Fareeha said. “Shit, where did I put that stack of firearms…?”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific, darlin.’ The Feds found enough guns to stock a few NRA meetings.”

“Ugh, I don’t even know anymore,” she groaned. “We’ve been at this for nearly two days, and we’re still not near the end of it all.”

“Paperwork is the death of the detective. What makes it funny is that it’s the lifeblood of them, too.”

“I don’t need any philosophical lessons in duality; I need to find the list of illegal automatic weapons.”

“Are these the ones that we think are local, or transported over state lines?”

“If they were from another state, that’ll make it FBI territory.”

“Doesn’t mean it might accidentally get sent to us. I had the entire case history for these Humans-First douchebag’s recruitment methods just until a few hours ago. Then a nice FBI man came to relieve me of it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re already feeling like a single man again,” Fareeha said.

“Hell no. I’m just being patronizing.”

“Ugh. If I didn’t drink myself stupid a few days ago, I’d say I’d need a drink.”

“Right there with you, partner.”

Fareeha rubbed her eyes. She was so deep in paperwork she practically bled ink. She needed a deep tissue massage after this. Maybe Mercy would like to go with her.

As she was rubbing her eyes, she saw a strange man sitting at an empty desk about ten feet from them. Considering they were in a police station, seeing a civilian sitting there was shocking.

“Can I help you?” She asked the strange man.

He was clearly Japanese, and stylishly dressed. He wore slacks and an untucked, button-down shirt, which was wrinkled. He had black hair and high arching eyebrows, and had seemed like he just woke up. His entire ensemble made him look like a disinterested millionaire heir.

“Yes, you can,” the strange man said. His English had a slight accent to it, further betraying his Japanese heritage. It also showed off his wealth, to be able to speak so fluently. “I was wondering if your partner was Jesse McCree.”

“That I am,” Jesse said, looking up. It was clear that he was taken back by the strange man’s sudden appearance. “Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to see you,” the man said. “See what you were all about.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I just wanted to see what made Jesse McCree so special.”

Fareeha traded looks with Jesse. She wasn’t telepathic, but she knew exactly what he was thinking: _What the hell is up with this screwball?_

“Look, sir, we’re in the middle of a very big investigation,” he said, “I’ll have to ask that you leave the room and go back to the front desk.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we have a lot of private information out here, and we can’t let it be leaked,” he said. “Please, head back to the desk.”

“Can’t I just talk?”

“If you want to talk, you’ll have to make an appointment,” Jesse said. “We’ve very busy now; I might be able to spare some time next week.”

“Ah, but next week won’t do,” the man said.

“Then we’re sadly out of luck,” Jesse said. “Please, leave the area.”

“A very straight shooter,” the man said. “I can see why he likes you.”

“Sir, do we have to call for someone to remove you?” Fareeha asked.

“No, no need,” the man said, getting to his feet. “I just wanted to see the man my brother fell in love with.”

That made Fareeha paused. She looked at Jesse, who was even more confused.

“Sorry, what?”

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said. “Genji Shimada. You should know my brother, Hanzo.”

Fareeha was staring at the strange man. Jesse was completely taken aback.

“Yea, Hanzo mentioned you a few times,” he said.

“Just a few? I thought he’d have a bit more to say about me,” Genji smiled.

“Family wasn’t a big thing we talked about, either of us.”

“Then I’m glad he decided to mention me.”

“So why are you here? Just to see me?”

“That’s right,” Genji said. “A few days ago, we got a call from Hanzo. He said that he couldn’t fulfill his role as the head of the Shimada clan, because he had found a man to love. Needless to say, our father didn’t take too kind to that.

“I love my brother; he did a lot for me growing up. Our father is very strict, and Hanzo took it upon himself to be the favorite child, to let me have more leniency than I should have had. So when he said that he found the love of his life, I had to see what my brother was on about.”

“Hanzo said his family all lived in Japan,” Jesse said. “Did you fly from Japan to just see me?”

“That’s right,” Genji said. “I had to come here to see if I approve of you.”

“Well, do you?” Jesse chuckled.

“In the hour I’ve watched you, I’d have to say you’re not bad.”

“You were not watching us for an hour,” Fareeha said.

“Well, not here.”

“I think you need to tell me exactly what it is your family does,” Jesse said. “Hanzo never said what it is you do.”

“That depends on what you think of my brother,” Genji smiled. “And what you’re willing to know.”

Fareeha’s phone rang. It was the number for the hospital.

“This is Amari.”

“Fareeha, it’s Mercy.”

It was always nice hearing from Mercy, but the tone of her voice was hard. There was no love or playfulness there.

“What is it?”

“It’s Jack. He’s…well, he’s on his way out.”

 

* * *

 

Jack couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to breathe in, but his chest was on fire.

“Son of a bitch,” he coughed.

He knew what was happening. He’d seen plenty of men die, and the shortness of breath was a dead giveaway.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that macabre pun.

He reached out, taking Ana’s hand.

“I’m here,” she said, her eye tearing.

“T-thank you,” he stammered. “God, I never thought I’d be this scared.”

“What did you think you’d feel?” Ana asked.

“Shit, I don’t know.” He squeezed her hand. “I wish we had more time.”

“We’ll have that time soon enough,” Ana said. “We both know I’ll be right behind you.”

The door opened, and Mercy walked in.

“Thank you for coming,” Ana said.

“I have to be here,” Mercy said. “Jack still needs my mercy.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s fine, Ana,” Jack said. “Dying needs its own mercy.”

“He’s right,” Mercy smiled. “And Jack, do you remember my plan?”

“Of course,” he said. “Not sure what a dead man can do, but I can help.”

Ana gave Mercy a questioning look. She ignored her.

“Thank you,” Mercy said. “I can help with the pain.”

“Please.”

Mercy walked over, and placed her hands on top of his. A soothing warmth passed through him, and Jack was finally able to breathe right again.

“Shit, I’m still scared.”

“It’s fine,” Mercy said. She placed his hand in Ana’s. “It won’t be long.”

Ana leaned in, kissing him one last time.

It felt like a great weight was removed from his shoulders. Jack never felt better. He sat up, and the world seemed to shine. He looked around, and saw that he left his body behind. Ana was holding his hands, crying.

“Ana.”

“She can’t hear you.”

Jack looked over. Mercy sad next to him, only this time, her wings were fully spread. Her hair was a flawless gold, and light seemed to shine from her pearly white feathers.

“Is…is this…?”

“It is,” Mercy said. “I gave you the mercy you finally deserved.”

“But not the one I wanted.”

“I’m glad you’re so perceptive,” Mercy smiled. “But the world isn’t a fair place. Humans rarely get what they want, and that’s the damn shame. But everyone deserves even a little mercy.”

“Then thank you for giving this to me.”

“I’m glad to help.” She held out a hand. “But we still have a plan to carry out.”

“Like I could forget,” Jack said, taking her hand. Mercy’s wings began beating, and she carried him out the window, up towards the sky.

“Are you sure this would work?” He asked.

“Because I was cast out from Heaven, I can get you to the gates,” she said. “But if you’re the Good Man I know you are, you’ll get in just fine. Not bad for a forsaken angel, hmm?”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha walked around Jack’s former room, gathering up his scant belongings.

“Thank you for coming,” Ana said. She sat on a chair in the living room.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Mom, do you really want to be here?”

“I do. We only knew each other for a short time, but this makes me feel close to him again,” she said.

“Is there anything of his you’d want?”

“Fareeha, we both know I’m not long for this world,” she said. “But I know I’ll meet him on the other side.”

Fareeha was about to say something, about how she’d be getting better, but held her tongue. Her mother wanted to be with Jack. If she sold her soul to make her better, what would she think?

She pulled out a box. Inside were a few odd trinkets.

“What are these?”

“Jack said those were his souvenirs,” Ana smiled. “’Things that almost killed him,’ he’d say.”

Fareeha pulled out a vial. Metal shavings jingled around.

“That was from a bullet they pulled from his chest,” Ana said. “He got that when he was eighteen. It’s what made him collect those things.”

“A chest wound at eighteen? He didn’t waste any time.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

Fareeha pulled out an old, hardly used wedding ring on a simple chain.

“That was from his first wife,” Ana said.

“Being married nearly killed him?”

“No, he said that _losing_ her nearly killed him.”

“Oh.”

Fareeha played with the ring.

“Do you think he’ll see her or you in heaven?”

“I hope to see both of them,” Ana said. “He would talk about Rosie every so often. She sounds like quite the woman; I’d like to meet her.”

Another vial rolled around in the box. Unlike the others, this one had a biohazard sticker on it.

“What’s this?”

“That’s a sample of his melanoma,” Ana laughed.

“Ew!”

“He’s a strange man, but I can understand why he’d keep it. But I don’t think it belongs there anymore, as it’s…it’s what…”

Fareeha dropped the sample and went to her mother. She was crying quietly. Fareeha took her hand.

“Thank you for being here,” she said. “I don’t think I could do this. But Jack found a way to laugh about that cancer. It was growing inside him, eating him from the inside out, but he still found a way to laugh it off.”

_The living death._

How could she miss it before? Cancer was cells that were dividing out of control; they were alive, but they would kill. Fareeha looked back at the box of macabre memorabilia. That was her fourth item.

“He was quite the man,” she said. “But I have a feeling that you’ll be getting better in no time.”

“That’s what I love about you, Fareeha. You’re so optimistic.”

 

* * *

 

Fareeha opened the door to her apartment. She finally had everything, all four items. Now she could save her mother.

Strange, Mercy was supposed to be home, but she wasn’t in the living room. And where was Momo?

“Hello?”

“In here,” Mercy called. She was in the guest room.

Fareeha walked to the room, and heard Momo whining before she opened the door. Inside, Mercy was doing her floating trick, hovering inches off the ground. She had her shirt off, and Momo was alternating between licking and nuzzling her.

Before Fareeha could stare at her naked chest, she saw angry red burns across her body. Her wings seemed particularly singed, almost as if they were actual feathers that were burned, not the leathery wings of a daemon. She also seemed to be missing her tail and horns.

“What happened?” Fareeha said.

“I went back home,” Mercy laughed. She had taken a jar of petroleum jelly from her first aid kit and was rubbing her burns.

“Back home? You mean Heaven?”

“The very same place.” Mercy winced as she dolloped the jelly on her burns.

“Why?”

“I gave Jack his mercy,” she said. “And I carried him to Heaven.”

“I thought you said you were cast out from Heaven.”

“I was. Hence the warm reception,” Mercy laughed, pointing to her burns. “This is just a fraction of Yahweh’s wrath. And it was being withheld.”

She was trying to cover a burn on the middle of her back, between her wings, but she couldn’t reach. Fareeha took the jar of salve and gently rubbed it on.

“Thank you,” Mercy sighed, “oh bearer mine.”

“You’ve always called me that,” Fareeha said. “What does it mean?”

“That you are my bearer.”

“Then why call me that?”

“Because I like you.”

“But why?” Fareeha whispered.

“Does anyone need a reason to like anyone?” Mercy asked. “I like being around you. There’s a lot of you that reminds me of me, and that draws me to you.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but blush.

“Why did you take Jack to Heaven? Wouldn’t he get there anyways?”

“He’s a Good Man, and Heaven always needs another Good Man,” Mercy said. “I just wanted to help him along. That was part of his mercy.”

Fareeha finished covering Mercy’s burns. She sighed and wrapped her arms around Fareeha, resting her head on her shoulder.

“Can you hold me like this?” Mercy asked.

“Why do you have to ask?”

“Because things will be happening soon,” she said. “We both have plans, and they’ll both be carried out soon. I just want to enjoy this moment with you. Oh bearer mine.”

Did Mercy know she had all four items? She couldn’t have. But she had to know she was going to save her mother.

Fareeha held Mercy close, only for Momo to but in, lying across both of them.

“Oof, we get it, Momo,” Fareeha groaned. “But you’re not a puppy anymore.”

Mercy could only laugh as Momo showered her with kisses.

“You damn attention whore,” Fareeha said, scratching his ear.

She wished she could stay like this forever; sitting on the floor, holding Mercy with Momo. But her mother was dying, and she finally had the means to save her. Four items Mercy needed; four items along with her soul to save her mother.

Fareeha blinked. Mercy said she needed power; what if the four items weren’t enough? Maybe Mercy could use some help. Fareeha looked over to one of the many bookshelves in her apartment, where she had hidden the ancient book that allowed her to summon Mercy. She’d have to read through it again, find sigils of power to help. She had shied away from them before, deeming the rituals too risky, but with her mother’s rapidly deteriorating health, she didn’t have much of a choice. There were always a few more rituals that she could use.


	10. Chapter 10

Machines beeped. Heart monitors, oxygen machines, and what seemed to be a dozen more machines all made noises. Fareeha knew what each machine did, but it was only in a logical sense. She understood their functions, but she couldn’t emotionally comprehend them. They were simultaneously magic and science, Clarke’s Third Law made manifest.

Only this time, Fareeha was ready.

It was two days since Jack Morrison had passed, and her mother had denied every treatment offered. She was at death’s door, unconscious. But Fareeha finally had a way of saving her.

“We’ll be in the hallway if you need us,” a nurse said.

“Thanks,” Fareeha mumbled. She was so focused on the task at hand, she didn’t even know if the nurse was a man or woman. She was glad that it wasn’t Mercy; she didn’t want her angel to know what she was doing until she needed her.

The nurse closed the door, and Fareeha went to work.

Her hands shaking, she pulled the ancient leather-bound book from her bag. She had read through the entire thing twice, re-reading every ritual. Consulting the book, she pulled out a bottle of ash. She had burned nearly a dozen logs to get the needed ash, but it was all necessary. She had read through every single incantation and spell of power; she wanted to give Mercy all the power she’d need to save her mother. Following the drawings, she began pouring the ash, forming symbols and icons around her mother’s bed.

Finally, she made sure she was wearing her silver Seal of Solomon. She had even bought a silver knife.

With her work complete, she opened the door.

“Mercy? Can you come here?”

With her new job at the hospital, Mercy was already there. Steely eyed, she walked into the room, then came to a dead stop when she saw the preparations that Fareeha made.

“Master, is this what you want?” She asked.

“This is what I need,” Fareeha said. “I’ve waited weeks for this, but I finally have it.”

She had the four items at the foot of her mother’s bed. Walking over, she grabbed the four vials.

“Tears of the sinless,” she said, lifting them up to show her, “blood of the sinner, bones of an infant, and the living death. I have them all. You have to save my mother!”

Mercy wrapped her in a fierce hug.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?” Fareeha demanded. “This is my mother! I need you to save her!”

“I don’t want to. Please, don’t make me.”

Mercy was crying. She was pleading with her. But rage gripped Fareeha.

“I am your master,” she said. “Do what I bid you to do! I have sigils of power her, and will gladly pay with my soul!”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Fareeha could suddenly see her breath.

“What the hell…?”

“You drew sigils of power in this room, a room of death,” Mercy said. “You attracted attention.”

“What do you mean?”

Mercy let her go. Tears were still in her eyes.

“The symbols you drew,” she said, pointing to the lines of ash. “They’re for power. And now that you’ve said that you want to sell your soul, you’ve just attracted the attention of true daemons.”

The clock on the wall began to slow, eventually stopping. Fareeha’s stomach flipped and flopped. She looked at her watch; it had stopped as well. Temperatures dropping, time appearing to stop, it was the signs of a great, evil power. It was a warning in the book.

“When you summoned me, you never said that you wanted to sell your soul,” Mercy said. “But now that you’ve said that your soul is for sale, it is attracting evil. That crossed a line.”

What did she do?

Shadows coalesced. It twisted into the form a great, tall man. From the darkness, a white mask emerged. It seemed to be shaped between a human skull, and one of an owl. Fareeha could feel it in her bones; it was a daemon, a true daemon. And she knew this daemon. It was written in the book she had, as one of the first Fallen Angels, distinguished by his terrifying white mask.

“What’s the matter?” Reaper asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Fareeha fumbled, trying to grab the silver knife.

“B-b-by the seal of Solomon, I command you,” she stammered, showing the silver ring.

“You think you can control us with a counterfeit?” Reaper demanded, stepping from the shadows. No, his entire body was made of shadows. The only thing that was white was his terrifying mask which towered over her. “We know that isn’t the real Seal. You’ll need the real deal to have any sway over us. And that’s been lost to the sands of time.”

Shit.

“Now, you said something about a soul,” the Reaper said.

“I, I’m already selling my soul,” Fareeha said. “Mercy will take it.”

“Mercy? The angel?” Reaper howled. “Oh, that is rich. She’d never take your soul.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me guess: she had you go on a quest for a bunch of items. Is that right?”

“That was her price,” she stammered. “Along with my soul.”

“She never needed the items,” Reaper said. “She sent you on a wild goose chase.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Oh, not for this,” Reaper laughed. “Not for this! She never needed those items. Don’t believe me? Ask her yourself.”

Fareeha turned to Mercy.

“What does he mean?”

“I never wanted this,” Mercy said.

“Tell me the truth!”

“You never needed the items,” Mercy said. “I’m sorry, but that’s the only time I’ve ever lied. I gave them to you because I don’t want to restore your mother to health.”

“Why?!”

“Because of her fucking Task, assigned by God,” Reaper said. “She never wanted to break it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I give mercy,” Mercy said. “Nothing more, nothing less. Your mother needs mercy, but that mercy would kill her.”

“So save her!”

“I could,” Mercy said, “but I would be breaking my Task.”

“She’d be giving life back to those who’d rather have it gone,” Reaper said. “That’s not mercy, that’s cruelty; that would make her break her Task.”

“We all have our Tasks to do, Gabriel,” Mercy said.

Reaper glared at her.

“My name,” he said, “is Reaper.”

“I remember when it was still Gabriel.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Not as long as you’d think,” Mercy said.

“Go ahead and act haughty,” Reaper said. “Your master still commanded you to break your Task.”

“You mean,” Fareeha said, “you’d have to break the Task that Allah gave you, just to save my mother?”

“It would turn me into a daemon,” Mercy said.

“And she never wanted to be a daemon,” Reaper said. “That’s why I had to come here. I would either get a soul, or I’d get another fallen angel.”

“You’d never get me,” Mercy spat.

“Oh, I will,” Reaper laughed. “You might have been cast out from Heaven, but you’re still an angel; and angels _have_ to follow their orders. Your master summoned you, and gave you an order. You have to follow it through. Restore her mother, break your Task, and join us.”

Mercy’s hand shot out. It caught Fareeha by surprise. She grabbed the silver knife.

As soon as Mercy touched the silver, it began burning her hand. It was like she had pressed her hand against a hot stove; it burned and ate away at her skin.

Then she unfurled her wings. Fareeha gasped; Mercy’s wings were no longer daemon wings, but large, white, angel wings.

_The difference between angels and daemons largely depends upon where one is standing at the time._ Fareeha could hear Mercy speaking those words. She no longer saw Mercy as a daemon, but an angel. Her very perception of her had changed, without her knowing.

With the silver knife burning her hand, Mercy reached behind her and sunk it into her wing. Brilliant red blood splattered the wall, and she began cutting.

Flesh was sawed and bones cut by the silver. Mercy was in terrible pain; her face was wracked with it. But she never cried out, never made a sound. It made the sound of her cutting her wings off all the more brutal.

One wing fell, finally severed. With blood soaked hands, she reached for her second wing, and began cutting.

“No,” Fareeha stammered. “Stop!”

She tried to reach Mercy, but Mercy pushed her away. She worked quickly, biting her tongue. Tears spilled down her face as she finally cut her second wing off; it fell to the ground, and Mercy collapsed.

Fareeha fell to her knees, grabbing Mercy and pulling her close.

“What did you do?”

“She gave up her divinity!” Reaper howled with laughter. “Oh, this is _beyond_ rich! Mercy, the angel loyal to Heaven even after her expulsion! Mercy, who had spent millennia carrying about her damned Task, never forsaking Heaven or joining Hell! Mercy, the only one to scorn both Yahweh _and_ Lucifer, just gave up her divinity!”

Reaper continued to howl in laughter as Fareeha cradled the bloody Mercy.

“She chose to become a human instead of breaking her damned Task!” Reaper laughed. “Oh, this is too much!”

Shaking with pain, Mercy pulled Fareeha close.

“Your mother,” she stammered, “deserves mercy, not life.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I did.”

“Yes, she did,” Reaper said. “Because you wanted her to break her Task. You are her master, she must follow your orders.”

Fareeha stared at Mercy’s white wings. They were stained red with blood, and began crumbling to dust.

“I…I never wanted this…”

“Too bad,” Reaper hissed. “Mercy can’t help you, but I can. You promised your soul: I’ll take your soul, and give you what you wanted.”

“No,” Fareeha stammered.

“Oh, yes,” Reaper said. “You wanted to save your mother, give her more life? I can do that for you. I’ll just need your soul.”

Fareeha brought the silver knife to bear. It was still slick with Mercy’s blood.

“Try me!”

“You can’t stop me. You can hurt me, but you won’t be able to stop me,” Reaper said. “Once, I was Yahweh’s messenger. I carried his holy word; I was one of the Archangels, the most powerful creature short of God. But since I broke my Task, I’m even stronger. You think a damned little dagger will stop me, regardless if it was made of silver?”

Fareeha swallowed hard.

“B-but you’ll save my mother?” She asked. Mercy twisted in her arms. “If you can, then…then I can live with this.”

“She won’t die,” Reaper said. “Not for a long time.”

“Oh. Good.”

“I’ll just make her a vegetable.”

“What?”

Reaper advanced on her.

“I’ll just leave her a vegetable,” he repeated. “She’ll know what’s going on, but she won’t be able to move or talk. She’ll just lay there, not dying, for at least ten years, silently suffering.”

“No!”

“That’s what you wanted,” Reaper said.

“It isn’t!”

“Then you should’ve been more specific when making a pact.”

Reaper’s shadow form shot out, enveloping Fareeha. It began crushing her, cutting off the air. Fareeha tried to gasp for breath, but the shadows forced themselves down her throat. She felt something being pulled from her, torn and ripped from place…

“Stop.”

The shadows did stop, but Fareeha could tell it was out of curiosity.

“Stop, please.”

It was her mother.

Ana propped herself up on the bed, staring at the daemon that was trying to pull Fareeha’s soul from her.

“Don’t hurt her,” Ana gasped.

“Ah, the dying woman speaks,” Reaper laughed.

“You can’t take her,” Ana said.

“I can, and I will,” Reaper said. “She said she was willing to part with her soul.”

“Don’t hurt her,” Ana said. “Take me instead.”

Fareeha tried to cry out, but the shadows that grabbed her were suddenly solid, to say nothing of the shadows that were forcing themselves down her throat.

“What,” Reaper asked, savoring Ana’s pleading, “was that?”

“Take me instead,” she said. “Just don’t hurt my daughter.”

“Your daughter wants to save you,” Reaper said. “I said I would, by making you a vegetable.”

“I heard,” Ana said. “I don’t care what you do with me, just don’t hurt my daughter.”

“You would give me your soul, just to become a vegetable?”

“Would you leave my daughter alone?”

Reaper laughed.

“Yes, I’d leave her alone.”

“You’d never hurt her?”

“I would not.”

“You would never take her soul?”

“Not for this.”

“Then do what you want with me,” Ana said. “Make me live forever in endless agony. Just don’t hurt my daughter.”

“Mom--!”

The shadows pulled themselves from Fareeha’s throat. She gagged, falling over, Mercy pulled her close.

“Watch me save your mother,” Reaper laughed. “Or, should I say, your vegetable.”

Reaper’s shadows show out, piercing Ana’s sides. They enveloped her, just like they did with Fareeha, forcing themselves down her throat. Ana thrashed, but a weak, dying woman’s thrashing amounted to nothing.

“No!!” Fareeha cried.

Mercy pulled her close.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

Ana’s back arched as Reaper pulled something from her. It was a brilliant white light. It was shaped like her mother, and looked like her. It was a glowing light that looked like a young woman, then a mother, and an old woman, all at once. It was her mother’s soul.

Fareeha couldn’t stop herself from crying. Reaper was taking her mother’s soul.

“It’s fine,” Mercy smiled. She spoke in barely a whisper, clearly in pain. But at the same time, she seemed happy. “He should run into some trouble.”

Reaper tried to drag Ana’s soul away, to swallow it whole, but the brilliant white light that was her soul pulled back. Reaper tugged at it, but Ana’s soul refused to move. Reaper began pulling with all his might, but he still couldn’t drag Ana’s soul away.

“She sacrificed herself for you,” Mercy said. “That is one of two things that would make Heaven mark a soul for salvation.”

“One of two things?” Fareeha asked. “What do you mean?”

“There are two things that can save a soul from damnation. The first is to selflessly sacrifice itself out of pure love,” Mercy said. “The second is to have an angel look out for you. If you have both, there is not a force in the universe that would keep you from Heaven. Even Lucifer Morningstar is powerless against it.”

“My mother is safe, because she sacrificed herself for me?” Fareeha asked.

“That is one part,” Mercy said. “If her salvation only required her to sacrifice herself, Reaper wouldn’t have accepted the deal. She has to have an angel looking out for her.”

“Then who’s the angel?”

Across the room, a brilliant light pierced the veil of Reaper’s shadow.

“A Good Man,” Mercy smiled.

A light in the shape of a man fell from the heavens. He was young man, barely fifteen years old, a young blonde-haired man filled with youthful energy. But at the same time, he was a handsome man in his forties. But at the same time, he was an older man with silver hair.

It was Jack Morrison.

Falling from the heavens, he lashed out at Reaper. His fist connected with the white mask, and the entire room seemed to explode. The punch sent the daemon Reaper flying backwards, crashing against the wall. The blow rang Fareeha’s ears; it was like the judgement of Yahweh being cast against Reaper.

“Keep your hands off my wife, you son of a bitch!” Jack shouted.

Reaper rolled to his feet, trying to shake the brutal blow off. Jack stood tall, made entirely of brilliant light. He even had wings.

“Jack Morrison was a Good Man,” Mercy smiled. “I could sense it. Good Men always become angels, should they get to Heaven. That is why I helped him to Heaven, even though it burned me. Because if you anger an angel, you risk going to war. And daemons run when a Good Man goes to war.”

Reaper tried to get to his feet, but against the heavy blow that Jack delivered to him, he was slow to right himself.

“You…you planned this,” he spat at Mercy.

“Of course I did,” she smiled.

“You _knew_ that she would sacrifice herself,” Reaper spat, pointing at Ana.

“What mother wouldn’t sacrifice herself for her child?”

“You knew she had an angel looking out for her!”

“You’re a powerful daemon, but not a terribly bright one,” she laughed.

“Fareeha still promised me her soul,” Reaper said, re-forming his shadow form. “I’ll still take hers!”

“No, you won’t,” Mercy said. “You agreed to take Ana’s soul in exchange for Fareeha’s. You were a terribly powerful Archangel; since you broke your Task, you’ve grown even more powerful. You can even give Yahweh pause, if only for a bit. But even you can’t break a pact that you made. You would only take Ana’s soul; it just so happens that her soul is guarded.

“You said it yourself: angels have to follow orders. That’s true, but daemons have to obey pacts. And your pact was to leave Fareeha alone.”

Reaper screamed and roared.

“Then I’ll take yours!” He shouted. “You’re human now, your soul is forfeit!”

“For what?” Mercy smiled. “I’m human now, yes, but I wasn’t born of man. I’m untouched by Original Sin, and in the minute of being human, I haven’t committed a sin worthy of being dragged to Hell for.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh.

“You cannot take Fareeha’s soul, you cannot take Ana’s soul, and you cannot take my soul,” Mercy said. “Reaper, you have lost.”

“There’s still one thing I can do.”

Reaper’s shadow form shot out, hitting Fareeha on the chest. She screamed; she was being burned.

“I claim your soul,” he hissed as her flesh sizzled. “Should you stray from the path of righteousness, should you live in sin, there won’t be a force that would stop me from claiming you for my own; even Yahweh won’t be able to save you. If you sin, if you fall, you’re mine. And humans _always_ fall for sin.”

Reaper let Fareeha go. Even though she was burned, her shirt was untouched. She pulled down her shirt, and saw the mark. On her left breast, just at her heart, was of a ball, with flames coming off it. She had seen that symbol before, in her book. It was a soul orb, the symbol of the Reaper.

“Remember this: if you sin, your soul is mine,” Reaper hissed. The shadows disappeared; the temperature rose, and the clock began ticking again.

Jack stood over Ana’s bed, holding her mother’s soul.

“You came back for me,” Ana’s soul said.

“Of course,” Jack smiled, “you’re my wife, my true love.”

The two souls kissed. It was like being blinded by the most brilliant, pure light.

“Fareeha,” Ana said, “I need your help.”

“Mother? What, why?”

“I’m stuck here,” she said, pointing to her body. “The daemon was right; I’m a vegetable now. I can feel it; I’m trapped in my body.”

“But you…”

“You need to let me go, Fareeha. I’m sorry it has to be you, but I can’t be with my husband.”

“But I tried to save you…”

“Please, Fareeha, you need to let me go,” Ana said. “There are some things you can’t change.”

“You have to listen to her, oh bearer mine,” Mercy said. “If you keep her alive, it would be cruel. This is mercy.”

“But how?”

“You made a pact with Reaper,” Mercy said. “The pact would save your mother’s life; she only agreed to pay the price for you. To save your mother, you have to break your pact. Stand over her, and say that you’re breaking the pact with Reaper.”

Staggering to her feet, Fareeha made her way to her mother’s comatose body. Her remaining eye was open, staring at the wall, unblinking. Tears began forming, just to keep her eye dry. But Ana’s body couldn’t even move, let alone blink.

“Please, this hurts me,” Ana said.

With trembling fingers, Fareeha gripped the bed’s railings.

“I…I made a pact with Reaper,” she stammered. “To save my mother. I, I, I don’t need it anymore. I break the pact.”

Ana’s body sighed, and her eye finally closed. The machine that tracked her mother’s heart rate beeped, then sang an alarm as her mother finally died.

“Thank you,” her mother’s soul said. “Fareeha, thank you.”

Fareeha watched as her mother’s brilliant soul wrapped itself around Jack, and they both ascended to Heaven. 

“Fareeha,” her mother called, “I’ll love you forever. Nothing will change that, not even death.”

Mercy walked over to Fareeha.

“It was a mercy.”

Fareeha broke down, crying over the body of her mother. Mercy held her tight.


	11. Chapter 11

Jack Morrison was a retired Major General in the United States Armed Forces. He was more than eligible for a burial in Arlington National Cemetery; he had planned his entire burial before his death. His plot was ready and waiting for him, along with the Army’s Honor Guard.

Ana Amari was a retired First Deputy Superintendent with the police. With her marriage to Jack, she was brought to Arlington National Cemetery as well, and with her passing, the police department had sent their own Honor Guard.

Fareeha stood silently in her police dress uniform, doing her best not to cry as her mother and her husband’s caskets were lowered into the ground, side by side. Tears still spilled down her cheeks.

Mercy stood to her right, holding her arm. She had to burrow another dress of Fareeha’s. She wore the most conservative black dress Fareeha had, with a shawl over her shoulders to cover her back, mostly to hide the two massive scars that stretched down her shoulder blades where her wings used to be.

The police Honor Guard had brought their bagpipes. As the caskets were lowered, they began playing “Amazing Grace,” to send off the retired First Deputy Superintendent.

Fareeha tried to hold herself as tall and proud as Jesse McCree, who stood behind her. Instead of wearing his police dress uniform, he wore his Army Ranger dress uniform, something that Fareeha never saw before. It was almost as strange to see him clean-shaven; no five o’clock shadow, just a clean-cut McCree. He was dressed sharp, just as sharp as Hanzo and Genji, who stood with him.

As soon as police were finished with “Amazing Grace,” the four Army Honor Guard stepped forward, carrying rifles.

“Ready, aim, fire!”

As one, they opened fire with blank cartridges. The heavy, staccato gunshots echoed through the cemetery.

“Ready, aim, fire!”

The second shot still made Fareeha jump. Jesse remained as still as stone.

“Ready, aim, fire!”

Even Genji flinched.

With the three-volley salute finished, a bugler stepped forward, and began playing “Taps.”

With the burials finished, both Honor Guards stepped away, returning to their post to give Fareeha room.

“Thank you for being here,” she mumbled.

“Anything for you,” Mercy said, clutching her hand.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” Fareeha said. “Your wings…”

Mercy was quiet, staring at the ground.

“I’d only just seen them, as real angel wings, and you cut them off,” Fareeha said. “You gave up your divinity. Why? Why for me?”

“Because it was what you needed,” Mercy said. “You needed to know what your wish would do, how it wasn’t what you needed. It wasn’t the mercy you wanted.”

“But your wings…”

“Don’t worry about my wings,” Mercy said. “To be honest, I was growing tired of being Mercy.”

“What do you mean?”

“My Task was to deliver Yahweh’s mercy to those who needed it,” she said. “Can you imagine what it’s like, to know when people are in pain? To have them cry out for you? There are over seven billion people on the planet, and I knew all their suffering. It’s exhausting. It’s beyond exhausting, it’s…”

Mercy went back to staring at the ground.

“I think that’s why Yahweh wanted me to limit my Task. I always thought all that mercy was too much for even Yahweh to do. But now, I think it’s what they wanted to teach me: that humans must make their own mercy, not to rely on it from Heaven.”

“Then you’re free of your Task?” Fareeha asked. “You don’t have to give mercy anymore?”

“That’s right,” she smiled. “I’m no longer an angel, I’m human now. Cutting off my wings was the most pain anyone can experience. It burned worse than hellfire, or the anger of Yahweh. But when I was done, I felt free.

“When carrying out my Task, I can feel the need for mercy. It feels like something that’s begging for attention, an itch you can’t scratch. But when my wings were cut, I felt nothing. It was peaceful. More peaceful than when I was in Heaven.”

Mercy rested her head on Fareeha’s shoulder.

“Maybe this was Yahweh’s goal all along. Maybe this was their way of having me retire.”

“Retire? So soon?”

“I only look young, oh bearer mine,” Mercy smiled. “You should know I’m quite old.”

“But I’m not your bearer anymore,” Fareeha said. “You’re a human now. You don’t have to call me that, or follow my orders.”

“But what if I want to?” Mercy asked, squeezing her hand. “Having free will now means I can do what I want. And I want to keep calling you that, oh bearer mine.”

“Then why me, and no one else?”

“Because you’re beautiful. Because I can see a lot of me in you: the burning desire to do good, and the selflessness to carry it out.”

“Then we’ve both learned something,” Fareeha said, looking at her mother’s grave. “Some people need their own mercy, not a mercy that others want for them.”

“That must be Yahweh playing the long game,” Mercy said. “And Yahweh plays a longer game than any of us can comprehend. Even Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t understand the plans or the movements that are made.”

Both were quiet as they stared at the graves.

“Will Reaper really be waiting for me?” Fareeha asked. She could still remember Reaper burning his brand on her breast.

“He will.”

“But my mother sacrificed herself for me. He shouldn’t be able to touch me.”

“He can’t take your soul, but only to save the life of your mother,” Mercy said. “If you live your life in sin, that’s another matter, one that your mother’s sacrifice won’t protect. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be good from now until your time comes.”

“Then I guess it’s good that I’m such a goody-two shoes,” Fareeha laughed.

“Don’t be so conceited. This hurt Reaper’s pride; he’ll go out of his way to tempt you and lead you astray.”

“Please. I’m a beacon of justice.”

“Not when it comes to dating, apparently.”

“Dammit, not you too!”

“I’m sorry,” Mercy laughed. “I’ve never seen a mother to be so proud of her daughter’s promiscuity.”

Fareeha gave her mother a stern look. Even in death she found a way to embarrass her.

“Do you miss being an angel?”

“Well, I’ve only been a human for a few days; I don’t think I have much experience with it,” Mercy said. “Although I do miss being able to hover in midair.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I just have one question,” she said.

“Anything, oh bearer mine.”

“Why you? I found that book to summon daemons, but why did I summon you and not a true daemon?”

“There’s one thing you have to know about the divine and infernal,” Mercy said. “We are all made from power and emotions. I am Mercy. Reaper was Gabriel, duty incarnate. And Lucifer was the Enlightener. When they broke their Tasks, Gabriel found he took pleasure in treachery, and Lucifer of course became the great deceiver, the Prince of Lies.

“All is based around power, but also emotions. Written text changes context with the emotion one has at the time. It also helps that we are all capable of recognizing emotion from looking at someone.”

“That’s why you can tell when people need mercy.”

“That’s right. It is literally laid out to me, it’s like signs are floating in the air. When you wrote those incantations, it was less the heifer that you sacrificed, or the symbols that you wrote: it was the emotion that you used. And you needed help.”

“I needed mercy.”

“Now you understand, oh bearer mine,” Mercy smiled.

“But when I summoned Reaper, I wanted to make a deal, not find an emotion. That means he was drawn to my wish to sell my soul, right?”

“It is.”

“No wonder I didn’t summon a daemon the first time,” Fareeha said. “Allah, I dodged a bullet.”

“More than you’d ever know.”

“Then you…then you made me keep you around so I wouldn’t summon a true daemon.”

“I didn’t want you to sell your soul, or unintentionally damn your mother,” Mercy said. “That would be a cruelty, the antithesis of my Task. That is what made me lie to you.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but feel shaken by her close call. She could still feel her soul being pulled at.

“I know you don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said, “do you want to stay with me?”

“I’d love to stay with you,” Mercy said, “come whatever may, oh bearer mine. And this time, I can promise never to lie to you.”

Fareeha felt her heart flutter.

“We can’t stand here forever,” she said. “We need to give my mom her peace with Jack.”

“And fly back to get Momo from the doggy hotel.”

“That, too,” Fareeha smiled. “I wish we could bring him here. I wish Jack wasn’t a military hero; I’ll have to travel to see him and mom.”

“But you know they’re happy together.”

Fareeha could see the image in her mind; her mom’s soul being carried away by Jack, up to Heaven. She could see the light of their love, and doubted she’d even see anything so pure, so beautiful.

“Yes, they are.”

Fareeha turned from the grave, to let the caretakers fill in the dirt. She and Mercy walked to Jesse, Hanzo and Genji, who stood respectable behind them.

“Thank you for coming,” Fareeha said.

“You’d have to fight me to keep me away,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, but she’s at peace now,” she said. “She’s with Jack, and I know they’re happy beyond all measure. And I know they’d want us to be happy for them as well.”

“She was a damn good woman.”

“The best,” Fareeha agreed. “And Hanzo, thank you for coming, too. But I thought you needed space.”

“I did,” Hanzo said. “And I’ve made my decision. It was time for me to return.”

“So soon?”

“I needed to search my soul for what was right, and what I wanted,” he said. “I decided to take a page from Jesse’s book. I rented a hotel room, and I got very, very drunk.”

“Sounds like some good soul searching,” Mercy laughed.

“All thanks to you, Oni,” he smiled. Genji gave Hanzo a strange look, but Hanzo ignored his brother. “I realized I couldn’t live with myself if I gave Jesse up. I had to call my father to tell him that I loved another man.”

“Did he take it well?” Fareeha asked.

“Heavens no!” Hanzo roared. “I have never heard my father so angry before!”

“You’re…taking this awfully well.”

“I nearly didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“When Hanzo came out to father, something strange happened,” Genji said. “Father got so angry, so furious, that he became calm. Tranquil, even. I saw the light go off in his eyes when he realized what Hanzo was doing.”

“You have to understand that our father isn’t an easy man,” Hanzo said.

“Quite the opposite!” Genji laughed. “He knows this, and he told me exactly when it hit him that he was actually proud of Hanzo.”

“Pissed off to proud in less than a day? I wish every coming out story was that quick.”

“If there’s one thing we can say about our father, is that he is very logical, perhaps even to a fault,” Genji said. “He is also filled with the dedicated, Bushido Machoism that Japan loves so very much. When Hanzo told him that he loved another man, he realized that Hanzo was showing his devotion, his dedication, to Jesse by breaking tradition.”

“And if there is one thing that the Shimada clan loves, it is devotion and dedication.”

“We’re suckers for that,” Genji smiled. “He doesn’t like Hanzo for loving another man; he thinks it’s unnatural. But Hanzo stood up to a very difficult man, and that is worth a grudging respect.”

“I will still probably be disowned,” Hanzo said. “My father doesn’t want a gay man to lead the Shimada clan. But I don’t care what my father thinks or wants. Besides, I know that my family will be safe in the hands of my brother.”

“No small thanks to you,” Genji said.

“And that is your mercy,” Mercy smiled.

“Quite so.”

“You said he doesn’t want you to head the Shimada clan,” Fareeha said. “You mentioned your family only a few times. What exactly do they do?”

“I can’t tell you,” Hanzo said.

“Sorry?”

“What my brother means,” Genji slyly said, “is that plausible deniability is a wonderful thing.”

“I get the feeling I don’t _want_ to know what that means.”

“That’s the entire point.”

“Well, I for one am over the moon that you decided to come back and get serious,” Jesse said. “I just wish it came at a different time. With this death and burial, I don’t know what to feel.”

“My mother would want you to be happy,” Fareeha said. “She found her peace, her mercy. She once told me that just because it’s the end doesn’t mean it’s the end of everything. She’s happy now, and she’d want us to be happy.”

“Then how about we get out of here and find a real fancy restaurant,” Jesse said. “We’ll toast for the fallen, to the dead who found their peace and love. Then we’ll toast to us folks who are still sucking air, that we’ve found what makes us happy. Sound good?”

“I like that,” Mercy smiled.

Hanzo, Jesse, Genji and Mercy walked off. Fareeha gave one last look at her mother’s grave. The caretakers were filling the holes with dirt. But her mother was at peace, with the man whom loved her. A beam of sunlight shone down on the headstones. Fareeha blinked; for a second, she thought she saw a man and a woman standing there, holding hands, smiling and waving.

The man had golden hair, and the woman long, black flowing locks, with an Eye of Horus tattooed under her left eye.

It had to be a trick of the light; it was over in a split second.

“Hey, Fareeha, you coming?” Jesse called.

“Yea, just…just taking this in,” she said.

Her mother was gone. But that didn’t mean that everything was gone. She had a lovable attention whore of a dog, the greatest partner she could’ve ever asked for, and her own personal former angel. That would do.


End file.
